Grandiloquent passages stimulate the mind before sun beams burn words off the page.

Hyperbolic would not be the argument that self is now brighter than window’s nuclear visage.

Pseudology’s Achilles’ heel is awareness of truth, a weapon readers carry even after covers close.

Chivy not this soul for having head always in literary clouds for finding real connections in unrealities is more sane than the converse.

Flower girl on flower moon, are you here as a runagate from a more celestial home?

Ah, I see. Please forgive the misnomer, Lady Of The Blooms, now company of the garden gnome.

From the heavens, you give epiphany to stars engaged in omphaloskepsis toward your pastel palace.

This Nowheresville of yesterday is, now, a land of wonder thanks to your elegance of the Alice. ; )

Flower yellow, ethereal against rocky valley, folklore says your reflection on chin announces butter affections, but fakelore claims your colour on shin indicates affinity for fruit-fly confections.

Petals sunny, the punditocracy of gardeners and bunnies can spruik your purpose and worth from both sides of the flip, but all I know is that it up-joyed my day when in-breathing your scent led to a tickle of lip. ; )

Dancing.

Break.

Gravity.

No.

Acrobatic?

Yes.

Acroamatic?

Yes.

Thank you, mentor.

Slip?

No.

Both floor and soles are quite xeric.

Brandish moves.

Jealous moonwalkers.

Copycats.

What is it called?

‘No-Squish The Billywitch’ ; )

The purpose of the hiatus can be to provide a luminary scene when the darkness of one’s path has become too keen.

Just as lactivists advocate nurturing souls from the source, seekers find their needs fulfilled when true light meets their course.

What was verisimilar can now be known instead of being felt; no longer unsure of next is the hand which one holds dealt. ; )