unless we make it
| Umbrage taken to words, thoughts, emotions written here; conflict open to those that read. Quite a theme has been created the assertion interjected and not one of goodness, love, or light has it been. Why usually, if not completely but surely a majority, venom? Why anger, scorn, fear, and angst?
Easier, more conveniently written, more powerful, stronger?
The mind circled, took encampment, built defenses, and loaded guns for assault. Night came, stars shone, and wind blew. Sleep came late and hard, but light; restless. Pride stripped, sent downstream never to recover nor want for return and old thoughts thrown upon rocky embankments to die in the new sun shining upon the neophyte consciousness.
Love here and any price asked will be paid. No journey, nor travail, obstacle too much. So for object of adoration, co-conspirator in game of life and love, sometimes agitator and combatant, pronouncement to all that come and read here is seen.
Mack loves Tod, no other.