[b]Dots and Rings[/b]



Join in the pride, far inside
A busy rinse cycle, deep inside
Where ideas shared are stacked abound, deep around
Many roads tied to vistas and millstones, all around
There are long fingers and watered palms that reach softly, deep and slightly
Only to the wary will the rain in these eyes open wide, wayward and slightly still

The sides are sliced in quarters, among tricks and hoarders
With a hurting so solid that it shackles and checks, making bad dreams become boarders
Some only deal with crime, others burden a heavy list; both bills that pave streets
Another set faces into silent jolts, shielded and stuffed with circles; dual wills crafted as sheets
What can become of the discarded ambitions, if all it takes to break a breaker is a contract?
A foul play twisting with another passion, a pact to the packer malformed as an abstract

This is no time to play games, although pretending maintains the sane
Being violin to the shenanigans isn`t fair, but the party favors this way all the same
Some day these things will reach deep and far, all and slightly, and wayward still
Somehow the presence of drives and driving horns will not drive these planets still
Though it is strange, being torn between being a quiet with a hoarse tone
Alone it is not, it is not merely a quiet storm; it is an undying ring, a prideful tone