Jimi Demetriou

A couple inches of show to hide the road.

It was the first I have seen of its ascension in many months. The sun that is. And, as the sun rose, I told myself a story. See, the great power of the mind is its the ability to lie to itself. Convince itself, propagate itself, hum gleeful bedtime stories to itself. Without this we would be illustrious observers and nearly nothing more.

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To observe is not to appreciate the patterns in which the white heavens fall over the landscape; the sun diminishing the amble and digressing stories of the evening.

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The clouds fell last night, and they are still falling this morning. But, there is still enough red in the sky for a sailors warning. As to the story you may wonder, well it was rather boring. Almost as much as that strained singular rhyme scheme.

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