Turning my mind's eye to putty, these telepathic wavelengths shortening my sight to a pinpoint of light.
Focusing on high, machinations playing and paying forward toward a deserted road.
Embellishing in frankness and esteem. The night waves me by. I laugh so mercifully, yet within I cry.
Such are the days of burden, I wistfully unload. Seeing wastelands evaporate into edens of lore.
More? Oh so much unfolding before the bell strikes noon . These callings summarize and emancipate.
Time to hold on deeper still. The fruition of an aeons work developing by sheer will.
May it please you, the notion of divine devotion attending the world.
Spiritual pleasure a lust untold by many a thousand suns. This work is undying and always won.
Such is divine timing when this end comes.