Choice Of Words, Monatherie.

        Wordsmith’s Palm, Against Utopia.          To Choice Of (Your) Words, Sight.                                                       IDR. 8,000.             SELF PROMOTE. (CoW, 562.)            AVAILABLE TO REPLACE.                 Shoot Me A Quick Form.          

     Oh, behold / my glimpse / and fathom / my volition, @USERNAME. I anchor my resolve to the cimmerian aether, weaving steadfastness from the ruins of spes that have nearly foundered. I tread the abyssal depths of the unseen, gathering fortitude from each misery that misleads my course. Still, I spell out my aim with every pulse that remains within me. At the crossroads of kismet, I hope you, too, shall assent to the silentium. Thus, I tend this flickering flame: so my footsteps may not wither before the cosmos grants its benediction upon our encounter.     

     Oh, behold / my glimpse / and fathom / my volition, @USERNAME. I anchor my resolve to the cimmerian aether, weaving steadfastness from the ruins of spes that have nearly foundered. I tread the abyssal depths of the unseen, gathering fortitude from each misery that misleads my course. Still, I spell out my aim with every pulse that remains within me. At the crossroads of kismet, I hope you, too, shall assent to the silentium. Thus, I tend this flickering flame: so my footsteps may not wither before the cosmos grants its benediction upon our encounter.     

        Wordsmith’s Palm, Against Utopia.          To Choice Of (Your) Words, Sight.                                                       IDR. 8,000.             SELF PROMOTE. (CoW, 562.)            AVAILABLE TO REPLACE.                 Shoot Me A Quick Form.          

  SCOUR / SORE / SOAR, @JENNIE. I peel-away the pomegranate’s integument, layer by layer, permiting the sting to ripen upon fingers awash in vermilion. Underneath its membrane palter a thousand arils, akin to secrets loath to be uttered: sanguine, verdant, nascent things that take root in quietude. I gather each granule with assiduity, devouring the bitterness left behind by these minute wounds. If you, too, apprehend such beauty in the liturgy, would you sacrifice sweetness to have it unraveled, until its very essence stands laid-bare? ࿓  

        Wordsmith’s Palm, Against Utopia.          To Choice Of (Your) Words, Sight.                                                       IDR. 8,000.             SELF PROMOTE. (CoW, 561.)            AVAILABLE TO REPLACE.                 Shoot Me A Quick Form.          

   BIND MY VOW, BECOME MY NOW. I am no vagabound whom surrenders doom to happenstance, I’m the architect of the destiny I seek to clasp. Though chronos unsheathes its bitterness and doubt gnaws from the innermost recesses, I shall suffer not a mote of trepidation to unmake my endeavour. I yearn to fulfil my pledge, to discover your existence and to bring forth the companionship that awaits its becoming.   

        Wordsmith’s Palm, Against Utopia.          To Choice Of (Your) Words, Sight.                                                       IDR. 8,000.             SELF PROMOTE. (CoW, 560.)            AVAILABLE TO REPLACE.                 Shoot Me A Quick Form.          

    A yearning behind sternum forged in steadfastness, I bridle with ferocity. Concealing trepidation beneath a demeanour of composure. I exact more than mere possibility: a throne for ambition, a blade of certainty amid all that’s relative. Expectation shall transfigure into a dagger, threatening from behind the eyelids of eventide. Whilst the cosmos puts my fortitude to the adversity, I remain the sovereign of my own volition, never its captive. Discover me in derring-do @USERNAME.    

        Wordsmith’s Palm, Against Utopia.          To Choice Of (Your) Words, Sight.                                                       IDR. 8,000.             SELF PROMOTE. (CoW, 559.)            AVAILABLE TO REPLACE.                 Shoot Me A Quick Form.          

       A CONCLEALED-CLEFT, BOLTED.    A fissure behind the decorum I    impose upon myself. A recess    that would accept me? 𐃓 For-so-long, I have been a wayfarer in search of acceptance, knocking upon threshold after threshold with a handful of imperfections. How wearying it’s to become whole before the macrocosm, while within, I’m but a ruin learning to piece myself together. A haven that does not beseech me to become flawless alabaster, @USERNAME.    

        Wordsmith’s Palm, Against Utopia.          To Choice Of (Your) Words, Sight.                                                       IDR. 8,000.             SELF PROMOTE. (CoW, 558.)            AVAILABLE TO REPLACE.                 Shoot Me A Quick Form.          

    I assimilate ephemeral oaths until their bitterness takes residence at the radicle of my tongue, I tend all that has slipped away as though even loss deserves the dignity of a sepulchre. Behold, I still cultivate a modicum of faith in the topmost primeval reaches of my essence. For reasons unknown, amid all this transience, I have yet to tire of making sanctum for a soul that may be wandering, much like myself. (Weaving longanimity from threads of dolour, @USERNAME.) ༄