A Tree Aglow The Dark Extreme.

Without love in the world all dreams and aspirations would be Braille, knurled silent blotted passions. Just as trees in the night rangy on swords of truth graven in a shade turbid in a bed, shaking for light. Furtive-sun dazzled spiders tremble in emptiness? Illusionists and conjures enticed into webs of madness. A pandemonium - a malady a weakness or a Jealousy but this too is a boundary a need for all things, sassy. Yes, our world needs love the aspiration of a dream but let its voice be as above a tree aglow the dark extreme.