This is how you capture thoughts, with a net of letters and heart blazing.
I could run faster than sound then I'd have myself a conversation about it. Some days I could kiss my wife and be happy forever, other days my restless mind couldn't find peace in a million joyous such. Is there a meaning to the difference in days, a symbol of content writ in spirit?
Moments align and find synergy if you let them, but if I could see far enough then my moments would be your first and her second. My brain rages in a cage with inadequate words, maybe you know them? Emotion foams at the base of a fall it can't climb well enough to speak. The summer is often full of grander dreams than cold winters, but if I could run faster than light then I'd watch my mistakes in real time and never have to wonder why the prettiest rose has it the worst.
