Green Cypress Hills…

To fan the dying flames of a smothered heaven what bellows of indignation? Would it take; not to rediscover one late pm some evil angel's wing baring our master's gate 'maybe a kind of former self's agent of the night. Definitely blocking any further investigations yes, green cypress hills, this… will's me. I would long, walk-in those green pastures of peace angelic-as-a-child, beneath his first Christmas tree wearing a lamb's wool-coat; kings Golden Fleece. Headfirst, in a sibling, race likes a Gingerbread Man on the Trial of the Big Bad Wolf, in a race for gifts, ranging from… silk-moth caterpillars to chrysalis—cocoon butterflies with antennas turned about-face. Face to face, in order we interface with all of Heaven. I would long, walk-in those green pastures of peace angelic-as-a-child, beneath his first Christmas tree wearing a lamb's wool-coat; kings Golden Fleece. To fan the dying flames of smothered heaven there on-by, blow my own; bellows of indignation? On some evil angel's baring, wing at our master's table.