In the want of sunlight the galvanic streetlamp shines its false securtiy. Rejected by those he loves, his courage belittled he is the once pious bird beating imoulded wngs in regret. The day ends and he sleeps on the shadowy cot of sour lies.
With a shepard's manner, and timid cry he awaits God's notice. But God defers his glory for those he alone deems worthy. Standing under the wood structure in Satan's yard he shields his face fromthe cold December snow falling in May, and hiding his newborm path in its white softness. His mind swans to a more joyous time, before he lived on borrowed sorrow.
The silky seductive goddess doth tempt our valliant paladin, like a siren in Poseidon's employ she calls him to the rocks. Her dancing shape is held forever in his serene eyes. He like a deffeated warrior with a gladsome spirit will her bidding perform, his soul lrft scattered axross the property of some unknown foe.
-Johnny V
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