By the rain and the glare, short-term memories burn, trains depart and meander. People share the air, people share whatever they cannot surrender in the blacktop arena of the blueprint of heavens unfolding slow; in the land they are harvested in, iron flowers grow.
Tell a retaliation, pass the eye in return. Mount Carmel is silent. You're an avian ray turn in a stained glass mosaic, insided, incited. Cries of doves outbreaking, calls of hawks, forest left to embrace the unknown. Kids are rowan tree branches. Firs are curving the flame, pines implant in the stone, the Aquarius's river swashes swiftly its waves as a thunderbolt blaster with a flash to deliver fast as ever desired; desiredly, faster.
People share the glare not at all for a fear or smile - keep it easy; taking flags to beware (ware) dizzy answers to questions almost equally dizzy. So useless and sneezy time is morphing the faces of land-morphing mentors. You're an avian ray turn, lantern, chalk-encircled bird in the center of the blacktop arena - an undoubted phantom.
By the rain and the glare, short-term memories burn, words depart in a letter. People share the air, people share whatever they manage to scatter in the blacktop arena of the blueprint of heavens unfolding slow; in the land they are harvested in, iron flowers grow.