Sunday, April 22, 2012

Earthen Soils

Ron Koppelberger
Earthen Soils
The birth of adorned inspirations in wakeful personalities of dusk, of damp earth and mossy accolade wore the guileless beauty of a spring blossom tinctured by the frost of a cool rain and an elusive breath of passion. He saw this promise in the evenings rhythm, in the way he experienced the grand eloquence of the terrain. The forest kept secret except unto him and the splendor of the amaranth. The bloom, eternal, hidden by the bouquet of a lesser bloom, it cried for the reason of men and wandering pilgrims who might happen to unfurl the promise of a blossom in clandestined soils of rebirth; in the promise of an angels favor and the wont of a blind possessor of innocence he discovered the soils of contrition and the sparing of passage by flame, for the end had been near and the love of the amaranth forever endowed the continuance of hope for the dream of peace and love, the gentle river of flowing affection for the perfect future of a provocation in earthen soils of forever. Indeed, he was the one washed by the fortune of the next horizon and the frayed edge of tomorrow.

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