Pleasurefields Testo

Brisk is somewhere near.
But for now, just a hazy, ever-burning maze of red ash will flush us clear.
In it.
Within it.
Waves pass through, but understanding that you❝re there.

And in a rush of airiness,
Lightly hammered into shape,
Frozen amber thawed and stewed in crusted September bake,
And comes the sunshine
Honey haze
Maze of Eon in a day of days

A comfort in each air
Nothing rotten, not yet bare.
In it.
Within it.
Waves pass through, but understanding that you❝re there.

There in that honeysuckle glow,
You❝d swear you saw it,
You❝d swear you❝d known,
Whether yellow-feathered cottontail,
Or bluebird singing sigh,
You❝d touched the air with tongue,
Taste of sun,
Touch of sky.