Walk between the raindrops.
Hear the echoes of the past.
A righteous feeling primally amassed.
Forecast.
Fables and fires.
Sables and sires.
Walk and talk down
the path you must stalk.
There is a hook in me.
One you cannot see.
The quicker we win.
The more time we will have to celebrate.
A victory not cheapened
with the telling.
Play fast and loose.
Call a truce.
Once the flood waters recede.
We will be drowning in honey.
Spread the ashes.
Hide the gashes.
Dip your toes
in the hot golden stream.
Feel the rising
of a wordless dream.
thejrpc 