All the time he spent waiting for the end; the end never came. It was like an endless song. And it took some time before he realized that their lives were run by the steel and wire of powerlines. The electricity which moves so easily, when it’s gone the solar system will just carry on. And though people keep in touch, their bodies go untouched. They’re well preserved for a future of transmissions from above. Perfectly in sync, ten billion hearts would start. He waited for the end, but the end became a start. All he had was this moment in his hands, a poison dart to shoot his magnificent plans right into the sky, and they come tumbling down into the powerlines he held right in his hands. To shake all evidence in a pocket’s one red cent devotional by sense with pockets baring threads, I needed a marksman to thread my needles through and through if I’m to run this down and sew it up, tearing, torn, unused. The fires magnified in certain light (magnified in light). Living underneath an ill lit sky (but thriving without light). And the fires magnify with time. It’s getting late to change a mind. It turned to a cculture of discouragement. Like coins, let’s spend the youth, or get them used to spending hard attention to the truth. “O, the ramparts we watch,” yeah, just blacking out on start. Did you realize the weapon is inside the walls of your heart?
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