Silience lets me define the correct time to plant this flower in the mind of your garden. The soul shall be raptured in honey comb pleasure for long warm nights in summers delight. The heratige allows me to feel the subtle descompisition of your disertation on everything about the reasons there is to live. The decrepid voice of catastrophic illusions have but all cosumed the fears of all trilogies and removed them to another demension. I do not fret and quiver the quill that I hold in my pale hand. The bond amonst us ghosts is that we understand the passage between the allure of the eyes and the foresight of the past that brings the meaning to the present.

I know enough to know that not everything revovles around the happiness of money and that we would all be better off unfurling the relentless pangs of stress away to sunny days in feilds of green grass by the shores and dig toes into sand. Let the worries drift away onto the tug boats escorting the barges out of the bay. Cast away your smphony of lonelyness and join the grass munchers, flower children, and realizers of faith. There is a solace not only in reveries of silly ghosts out of a lost girls imagination. I may be only one voice, but others whisper beside mine.