Excerpt 7.

Through the Eye of the Lens.

Excerpt 7.

Let's turn the hands of time. For lovers gone or justified lust, which way you go. Who is to say; what is right or why such goes the wrong ways. Your moment has come again. The clock no matter how you perceive the turn out. Keeps going with the arrow of time. You are destine to meet your pass lovers to reconcile or move forward with others. You know not of; manned at the ready the tolls of yore. Engage them with the signals of innuendos or charms of memories past. Carnations of gifts of roses. Bring the nectars of sweetness. Or write the novel of your character in black and white. Do sign the petition to plea. No turning back now. As you pluck the petals of; she loves me or she loves me not. You come to the last draw. Eleventh chimes gone with the wind. The midnight hour calls your courage to; this is the one. Finale; the twelve bud needs no reasoning. A political affair of who is who; many players in the game of life. You seek, only one. But the follies of love plays too late. The cards are dealt; shall you survive the table of contents. Laid before you; as they too come to challenge. For the prize is solely yours or the aftermath of adversity. Duel one by one, the unlucky thirteenth goes as passers-by. Rejection confess the ugly truth. Will you be the contender; fight for what is right. Do not fall to the lover's fit to the flights of retributions. Might wins in the war of chaos. Even now; even then the perils are without question. Never give up; unless the kneel to knight you. Victory my friend is remembered. Losses are not written. Only you can attest in years gone by. The story continues and the climate varies depending who you ask the question too.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree my friend. The loser is forgotten and the winner write the history.
"Never give up; unless the kneel to knight you. Victory my friend is remembered. Losses are not written. Only you can attest in years gone by. The story continues and the climate varies depending who you ask the question too."
The above lines. Deep truth. Few seek the real truth. If we did. We would know. Few good men had ran our world. Thank you Glen for sharing the outstanding chapter.
Coyote