In eyes the color of translucence Irises dilate to hold up The light hands cannot cup; In minds the color of efflorescence Cool heads may not prevail, Hot heads may not fail; But in mindsets the color of prison walks Thoughts clog dead-end street, Clatter on tombstone feet; And most, in hearts the color of talks Spirit wields wills, Flesh, willy-nilly, nills. From wombs we come willy-nilly will Whence from ripe to rot, we rot and rot; So to tombs we go willy-nilly nill.
Notes for A Song of Willy-nilly Nill and Will There are personal traits and events that we can or cannot control. How much one can do in given circumstances depends most on one’s personality. Our birth and death are two events entirely beyond our control.
Staples were traveling on the epiderm, thanking the wounds. The dust, the eternal ugliness were growling. Riveting drama: a royal swanking for a macabre heist. A bizarre charisma overtakes the cozy lips. I was green, and I was a cloud