as the angels blow white, powdery mist upon our faces........
kissing our faces with the 'chill' of winter solstice.......
and 'bygones' are for sale at the flea market of 'no return'.......
for rich is the man who has angels kissing and BLOWING THEIR MYSTICAL BREATH upon his neck and face,
whilst 'forcing' bad energy to slither off of his shoulders..........
rich is the man who wins the smiles of the children who 'love to love'.....
white teeth.......white halos......white aura......white light.........
constant reminders of things forgotten........
yet white and sweet and 'pearly' as the gates......
and the gates have been left akimbo........
unclear and abstract is their 'role' in the saga.....
strange and sanguine and magical mist is rising in anticipation of winter LOVE.........
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