  as the patience lives up to the virtuous myth.... as trust becomes rediscovered... the hours have all blended as reality kicked on the fast-forward button.
and the ends of eras are being adapted into the scraps and fragments of new beginnings. reconstruction is still an uneasy task...for one still has to hammer, saw, cut, paste, measure, realign, get more supplies, better insurance, knock down to expand and improve, rewire.... i had told a friend just now that even the day breathed effortlessly.... the weighty coat of dense humidity had been shed and thrown away.
the wind blew hard and confidant. the moon in the halfway phase of turning back to black. "feeling the resonance from the remnants of every event past. finally consuming the harpooning affect that had been applied upon this discontented body. the wasted wont and gravitational pull, all of it was unneeded. the familiar is the easiest to salvage. nonetheless, one can't help but feel slightly defeated.
the seeds planted. the seedlings destroyed. plants grew, but their fruits they bore had become rotten. there wasn't much for a harvest. still, all reaped what they had sown. using the decaying material to fertilize the overturned soils. the corpses of weeds sprawled out, roots spread like the legs of worthless strumpets.... lifeless upon the battlegrounds. for the new days are in incubation.... thriving amongst what most would consider devastation. " 
