Summer shorts, ironed and ready to be put away... Until next time 😭

As we set off into our world of dreams, Let our tremors forge canvases And our uneven pulses pump The ink with which our stories Will be painted. Let the loss of dear faces And the turmoil of the new Birth the motif that guides our being. Formless -- infinite in prophecy. Our scars, which trace her face, let be from cracks Where pains that broke the page's skin 'Came healed by the sound of soft laughter. Pandora ever smiling. And let passion fuel our reason. Be it thirst for knowledge, And the longing for power, Be it the craving for sacred flesh, Or the rapture of one's soul for another -- love. And at the end of this. When we walk the paths that trail us home. Let it be said that we went adventuring . And our replies be "Adventures Indeed".