The Scales.

By what measure of God’s hand does man strike its own kind as the last child is born.?

Is this the darkness doomed of mankind as the strangers find homes in the sewers of our hearts and minds eye. Such creatures of Uni, these childish pawns mans creation doomed to walk a thousand, thousands in concentric circles until all debts are paid.

Such fallen angels cast glare upon his creation with spite and hate for his love shines brighter or her love more fierce than the fires of hell.

Oh dear Goddess of all things him and her and he and we, she, they can not say, too. …dismay of display of tortuous caution and word play.

One kiss,. Goodnight my moon,my brilliant shining star. You give balance to this poetic painter heart.

The end.

# 473 million 😉

*image pull from Pinterest.


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