How Did The Liquid Dry?

Allow the scroll of language to throat the clarity of what is a chapter on the World and the men whom wrote.  A store of each must have statue to the verse of scrolls that gave list the book to bind and make the method operative to wisdom and gratitude from width of their shovel.  These short words to express the grace is to know that I have mustered in mind the foot to art a working literature.  As the balance of only myself in a growth of field the harness is the bridle that bits for the horse master in the rein of allowance.  How halted I am with their prowess to have put pen to pastel in wrest to full-stop increase as music must sing that choice in each opera that did reach for star or galactic pawn.

From forest to tree, a delicate platter, the dinner of bread to understand that the breeze did blow past a creek to raise a river on the flowing ladder to an ocean depth of sand in parade off rock and pebbles that made mountains rise.  One day the grief of loss may follow such tunnel and yet the tune is mathematics that adds to what is a shovel.  Is it the grave to the laughter, a cloud on the drive to see the globe as we walk from a road to a pad of found.  Oh how the walk of wandering waltz!!  What must have run through their vein to mirror a lily and compass a frog?

Drive this to a chorus and a proverb would sound:

Clarity of instrument and Tree of gather,

is the apple in the vine of a bucket of grapes,

does the wrinkle in the Palm make a fresh dial to reach the Sun?,

is the found in a clam or is the sea speak to creek?,
shall the lagoon still boom?

Depth on a perhaps is only the exit of what is so much more,

meeting the smile.

Shift to a word and round the fringe and the cave drawings seep to colors of the deep sand on a muddy day.  The rain must have fallen a tree and the sap may have scored!!  What delicate fabric would have air in such storm?  A finding that most redress with clothing to bite an apple at the price of the fig.  Clarity must encourage panel of bread to navigate the hull.  A seed that mustard gave to enhance our thought to the Cherry Tree.  A small hill in regard.

Out beyond the atmosphere and environment sings the lullaby of animal creeks, as again the rolling water thirsts, the bouncing breeze sweeps the mist to create the drink for the smallest life, a moth in swell as the butterfly does not recognize the fly?  How could nature not speak in such flow?  The ocean waves our tides to keep timely detail of the sweep of across the world.  The bench of shells crumbles to decor.  Sum of that price is the turtle, what a laughter must swing their mind to bend the Lombard and swim the depth of banking sand to hatch a egg with trouble swamping their path.  There in the mist is the open water with challenges and yet again the turtle looks with that crane of sight and lusts to grain the swan.  Might the biggest wake love those beacons, and, may light for each tremble what may fight the breast of fat.  Met with lark, this is the day that a proverb psalms to say that life is itself and breadth is just the Times in Ages Manifest.  

Here the Poets scream in sealed with verses that craft an angle,

as the perverse changes to romantic plight might the parallel see a flight,

over on the bass to touch a treat,

how locks must have stream to speak in borrow,

a bearing that compass makes watch.

The time in clock to a punch that awl made cloth,

silk in fine thread,

the weave of sample while the saddle arch is more to a tree,

in design the horse and the hawk,

an eagle in soaring relief,

the nest of albatross.