History treasures every year with writing style.. plagues, disaster wars the ‘no help for it pile’..
Artworks masters tendered many centuries past.. add to nature add to clouds trees beauty nature cast
Message has not changed much.. works of love and peace.. feel inside those who ride art of those long deceased.. time passes forever life is time to treasure.. seconds beckon joy..
love without measure..
Passing seconds hold a universe.. heart-felt is near.. every beauty every horror every smile and tear.. sky painted by masters.. written on the moon.. acted in a play
those serious to loony tunes..
Images captured faster each act to atone.. will historians credit seconds each as lived alone?..
I liken a lack of foundation to the ocean and a good swimmer.. ‘The swimmer in the cool morning would swim.. he would create a reality.. he would lend time to that reality.. he will swim steadily from shore depending on Neptune to do what is not obvious!.. the swimmer holds the truth of his skill.. his discipline to attain such a skill.. he will take his body.. his true.. to an ocean perceived in his mind.. giving no credit to what is.. soon the bottom will drop out.. there will be no more sandbars or boulders.. and he truly will sink in his created ocean.. Peace Tony