distinctly wafted revelry, traipsed in the heated flux.
A tired soul, that reasoned deluxe.
toiled not by the torture, but a heart of wisdom worldly.
a fit of terror and madness surely.
blinded by the senses not of the mind
feeble knees did knock, in traces of treasure to find.
yet and yet, this not to be found.
Tis the bare minimum, to abound
a broken man not by treason.
but by foolishness of many a season.
covered by honored vibes.
not of lies but by fractured ties.
of a former life and obsession.
may God be the true possession.
to err the night the mourn.
a new hope to adorn.
©redic
R