The heat is real, dirt in abundance, through it and for all, everything is made. What more challenging than to come in agreement with what an action truly is? As it grows, everything shifts, itself and themselves. Is man fool for his constant, the unwillingness to change?
Godlike.
There’s an undercurrent swiftly flowing unbeknownst, perhaps forgotten is appropriate; we (must) as well stop navigating, anchors raised, allowing an effect as such as the wind would rush through a tunnel, not cumbered, even if blocked, in a moment. This thread needled with certainty into many folds of ridiculous nature. One reason, to excuse a risk.
Until this flower bleeds out, both sides and in between, will accept.
