AtLast_[07]

>> Cutting Edge << Spirit lost

To spirits, drubbed Of blighted sense, Guile counted time in empty tasks Then emptied flasks, At first by feet, Then yards and miles. Expect no seasoned reasoned goals Of sulking men of sullied souls. Strained of painful offing's Undisproved, though mindful art contrived, Sot negated nexts then evers. Somehow, potentiality survived. Echoes roiled that mortal whole Bereft its absent soul. Rage, it was, that reason found, Nostrum quell of poisoned sounds. Janus blinded looking back Fixed on forward to attack. Burnished letters of their law Sole of letters, little more? Writs behind. Closed doors. There is no ease For love which breathed And breathing yielded As swords in ramp of justice wielded.