There was a feature which invoked a sense within..
perhaps it was the silhouette of a tree against the night mountain sky.
Regardless, the meaning instilled a motive why that looker might carry on.
What great potency within this one, this human among humans, all themselves so very potent as well. Yet there in their dreams weaves a construct fit for motives gleamed from shows made in a tact which sets to persuade and distract. And enacted then in time, years or more for this to show, rises up a fallow feature in those quotas dreamed and sown. Desperation of the essence in the credulousness we wrought then does seek to wind it's righteousness in vagueness loaned and bought... from the forms encountered briefly as....
fuck it YOLO
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