In the middle of the first half of the last third I had a premonition:

A past tense thrumming, a future blast, the void of present, the d'j' vu of nirvana the foo man choo of the savannah.

The smiling eye the winking star the shooting pain the burning rain.

Loves velvet whisper hides her teeth, hates underbelly, soft and warm, hatches embryonic voyeurs into the storms with watering eye.

Life's death rattle, death's infant cry, the yawning stones the mountains sigh.

Relief in hope and fear in faith run to the past's dynamic stationary swill to contemplate and change at will effecting naught'..the sold are bought.

Routine changes made today reflect a future days away

Wandering eye and wayward heart, cannot see, cannot start