written by Suzan Abrams
I take a flight of fancy and creep into the destitution of my confinement that my valour be promoted to an indulgence stemmed from goodwill and my thoughts be aligned to the muteness of the self. In my aloneness, I am one. I seek a harbouring of affection that my heart be given a rest from treachery. I toss betrayals into the air and look for sincerity in the burrowed holes of
imaginings and deep pleasures known to the pursuits of the mind. To where can I run if not for blanketed dreams that I be cherished in a need for forgiveness and restitution. I value only truthfulness and the coyness of the moment wrapped into the need of the self. Life is movement and speed but reined only by willing hands. On the contrary, it may be designed to tailspin the secondary motion of a half-hearted whine dismissing passion like a paradise lost in the sun. Today knowing what I do, I seek not the slippery carefree pangs of childhood so carelessly attained as I would the sophistication of age that swirls the quiet mind with needful charity and from time to time, the swing of my step, moulded from an exhilarating noise.