All the colors of autumn, like the most sacred
of nights 'round the fire, inside and woven
over with blankets, I can't specify.
Over the broken window sill, let's jump.
Inhibitions first, and into the bluest of seas, yes
like the reef under the greatest of isles, down underneath the world of malice, lies the truest of creatures and their righteous dwelling. A home of coral, a life of unseen wrath, leaves no
murmur to the beseiged surface. Still the most dense of colors thrives in this submerged world, and I'd wouldn't specify. Bring this vessel to the surface then, to the island of ambiguity. In and out, subject to the survival of the strong, I'd fight and reach, for that superior being, levels of which I cannot even begin to dream. Muscles, like kisses, seen not touched, dreamed not received. I'd never specify. So forth brings me to this meandering road, through mountains of green majesty, swollen with trees like the hairs of the great beast of the sea, a leviathan as it seems. Yes, as it seems I'll follow this divulge through the way, the only way I'd ever known, and I'll pray for it's resonance with the one's I'd keep with me, in heart, in mind, in dream.
Let me unravel, see, specify, dare to believe.