The There

Turmoil settles – gripping.

Undiscovered and resistant.

The unfortunate, unaccompanied.

Today will arrive, with us – left out.

“Tomorrow’s plan!”

Our hearts, chained with locket, around our neck.

Endure to hold the Jewel of Our King.

While reading in well designed confinement, we are to recognize our ascension. Giving recompense for the choice of self. The left out, reveal our descent, into forecast of doom. Each day claiming tribal residence between rows of written thought – blockaded. Our tribulation is passing onto generation the requirements of next. Whilst pages turn, study our code.

We are facilitators.

Who defends?

The victory, ours.

Fit the most suitable with swords.

Oak tree, Might Shield, bloom!

Granted audience, doing what we want leads us, incomplete. We either are, now, what we have done – or, now what we will be. We work for other’s choice, if being, necessary.

There was one.

There is one.

There will be one.

Correctly, three of us.

Where pages turn in sequence of rhythm, there is disruption of late. We look up and onward to think. We look down and inward, to face our note pads, nodding yes.

We are calm. We adjust our view left, bounded parallels betwixt honorable inscriptions. We adjust our view right, coiled madness, our obligation, of well – rounded character.

We are together.

Often, we walk head down, with something others call, “unknown.” our element is. Blockades remind.

The floor beneath us moves.

Cognition of our habits faded, and new stimulus helped to readjust. We placed it here, beneath us, to add instability. Click…clack, left foot, right foot, lifting and shifting – side from side, as the floor augments, and settles, waiting on interval. Pages turn, feet move, our head up to think, our head down to write.

Clock tower, your name of structure.

Efficient widened embrace.

Clock work Our Minutes.

We are prosperous.

How offbeat it is, the gathering of importance. Gathering variety, pulling strings to create Melody – Our Cheer.

Our library quiet. Traction avails itself unseen – chased with vigor. Our rhythm, undisturbed and continued – beyond.

Proclaim, Proclaim.

Now happen. Later, before.

Our Understanding.

Can we hear about us?

Proponents. Cogs. Assembled with strategy to live. Oh, humanity – slept long ago. ‘Tis our condition.

Will be ours, the director of change.

The left out will, keep old tradition, refuse to variate.

They scutter.

We are reaching. How else?

Visiting blemish, our feet step, turning pages our hands wave, with sigil placed on tempered glass, let the chimes verify, our quills down. Powered by heat stores of energy permit omni function of the Clock Tower. We leave, more join. Our thoughts with us. Yours, go with you.

Sensation, for us, Clock Tower.

Our travel; will be, distant.

We circle, you see.

Placed outside, close enough. We are enough to watch, to forget, at another grace. Our fortress to outline. Warmth dances, across our horizon – in darkness, to sound of song. We know what is behind us, looking away.

Unite. Two families.

Candle Maker + Scholar.

Atop the clouds, due travel!

Nimbus, be quick.

When our sun, will shine, our clock tower acts a lighthouse, with befallen notice. When our sun, will sleep, our clock tower acts a lighthouse, with enlightened nature.

Herald a new age, long ago – our family heritage. Expanding to return, further than last. We are called, “divided,” in our place – two places of opposite. We bring our work home. Our work is here, and it is – there.

When will the candle maker arrive, dimmest hour set upon the sky?

Love returns home to join.

Shine about, in rooms we place our self.

Prepared, now, together.

Our eve, for us.

Deciding to invest in what we have yet to complete, our eve is spent. In conversation of labor, reasoning – determination made evidence.

There is. It shifts.

Haunting.

Light passing through window.

It still escapes; still, for a time.

Shadows lurk, we are to seek.

Willing, execute.

Living among ruin. Concrete broken down, on either side of shoulder, neither day nor night, hiding how, it nearly flattened.

Chin up, Head forward.

March on survivor!

Our Terrain!

Craft, and Form.

We stacked large brick upon itself, purposefully, to act in role with planked support. Building a place to write, and rest the flame defending our sight. We removed the vines interfering with balance, garnishing tabletop with sacrificed branches of vine. Momentum. We remind our self.

We place our alter.

Our hope, here.

Our Scribes build our candles. In effective manner, taught well to use their resourced nature. Our Scholars, analyze our symbols, employing our faculties with future labor.

Our Library, where we met. One book, yet another. Character and Hope. We discovered a gaze, both of us read on. We found our hearts. Removing them from ‘round our neck, our hands met – two by two, in front of each other.

To receive, to give – Two, each other.

My heart yours, over every summer.

Mixed in making, two ores casted in mold.

Broken and found.

Our Words given another. On exchange of locket, clasp, and heart. It is written, a rule, if chance may pass, for honor of mechanism – who defines achievement. If two, decide, presenting them self, to one and other, an exchange can occur. It is, Heart for Heart, Hand in Hand.

Let our touch signify contract.

Here, we adventure. Yes, Hallowed Arms, with palm resting over our dearest part. Engaged in membership. We, our self, abide our self, for another. We care well.

Our part of ordained direction to uphold.

Standard to regulate. Order to keep. Our affairs, clockwork. We studied in Our Library, only to reconvene on return home. Rifeness lingers, “‘twas heart’s disturbance on which affirmation spoke.”

To agree with another, we long for pairing.

Isolation set to distort. Grace to settle dispute.

Exchanging hearts, moved us together in dwelling, by decree. Our first night, we learned, studied, and grew as one.

Correctly, three of us, each – one, reading the same page, Our Guide with us.

Old songs demonstrate unnamed majesty. It was then, now, and still.

We investigate because we discuss our work. Relevance ground itself, separately with us, far apart. By honor of mechanism, we kept speaking. Presentation, key.

Our output, and efficiency harmonized, giving clock work to our dutiful endeavors.

We then give room to investigate such origins of disturbance. Within our duty, we break limit, in spirit of, defining achievement.

Ignite our flame, let us sing, “We Shall!” There is a mystery with us! We are thankful of our daring. Our call, to adventure.

We are outside of resistance; yet it circles – twice daily, looming over us, tilted on correction. At no bottom, a height where braveries flourish. Remnants! Provide wonder. We hunt for them. We venture away. We veer from our outpost, our library, our fortress’ edge. Conscious, in need of, coordinated movement whilst we study and make, we noticed. We did. One night, at heart’s return. We confirmed. We conspired.

Our sword kept. We battle in cheer. Who we are, allows us! We are well to venture. Citizens of Our Border, we patrol, breaking from lopsided arms. They review and examine. We march. We craft.

One eve, we stumbled. It directed us, to place, of a lost artifact. A Vortex of Spatial Clockwork. An artifact because, the Left Out had attraction unto vibrations cast out from the VSC’s. They would scutter close and with savage anger, fold the passageway upon itself. The Left Out are majority, how then is it?

We invested countless fortnights, here, at a VSC, refurbishing. Duty proclaimed. The Clockers would travel to oversee our doings, unknowingly. Reaction and abidance would pass, respectful of our duty.

It is and we are.

Forgetting we sing.

We remember why.

A cheer aloud, in a moment – unexpected. The VSC began to generate, “Aura – like,” waves, wafting and sparkling, dazzled with outline of radiance, eminence between each heartbeat.

Gold and silver, open doors.

Together, passage. Mystery, still.

Heart in Heart, Hand in Hand.

Rested Burden

Strongmen be reassured!

The day arrived. Our eve, here. Our effort in union – victorious. We are to travel further, claim stake to outline a new country. Further attention directed toward affairs, left behind – we will join once more in consumption of meal.

Hand in hand, we look beyond, leaving old ruin. The warmth lend sight. Home bound. We cherish our morsels, into narrow intent. Remembering, The Fields of Elevation. Many ranges of wrangled mud puddles, tended with care. Disciples – we sustain. Up, late, with arrival of our clock work, we reminisce.

An ease.

Morning Sun, still here, remaining.

Your Will.

With open eyes, without candle, we walk into destination. Slow, is the travel of arrival. Hesitation left out.

A wreath around our necks, feathered lightness, together – we are to continue. Will our vision be impaired?

Upon ruin, near vine, we let go.

Our heart, mine, yours; we let go.

Hold still in awe, specter.

“Stand Ground!” We sing the final phrase.

New life from blockades, we are children. Hour, here; in front of space. Our lockets taken from our neck. We are to join our lockets, with Quantum Lockets placed on the VSC. The joining of each our locket, with each of Quantum Lockets, will be proof of, “ouroboros,” like capacity.

A certain justification, bestowing other knowledge.

Two hearts, molded.

Left for passage.

Two hearts joined for travel.

Energy connects.

We join ours.

Bear no shame, to be, on glimmer.

Our heart with each other, we gave contemplation. No clue where our trust leads, we are decided. We are willing. How do we stay behind in honor of, The Citizens of Our Border? The Clock Work, or otherwise. We go.

Pixelate oblivious

No more, being – else place.

Our linking tether – gone.

We join.

… beside you. Are you with me? You know appearance. Unearthed, we moved. Here, to greet you. Be embraced, yes, very.