Never were true words Spoken. What is manifest Is illusion. The Real poem is so Indescribably perfect, Just imagine it.

Fiction, memoir, and musings, from Minotaur Productions
Never were true words Spoken. What is manifest Is illusion. The Real poem is so Indescribably perfect, Just imagine it.
Which way I come, and Which way I go, you don’t know. Only my caress.