Th’re wast upon the riv’r bank a pile of soil transmut’d if ‘t be true thee wouldst indulge me, into a heapeth of emotion laying within. T wast a warmeth day and the travelling lamp did beat down something inside did want to breaketh out of the soil, t vibrat’d and did tremble across the riv’r wide and ranneth at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white lily hath moved into the riv’rbank all high-lone and bobbing, t suddenly did turn upside down and expos’d t’s delicate roots searching f’r a new life, t struggl’d a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dryeth did crack soil, f’r inside new life wast waiting and a voice from above bellow’d “tell those in the silv’r cautel we has’t new life. ” as the riv’r hath carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life wast b’rn
There was upon the river bank a pile of soil transmuted if you would indulge me, into a heap of emotion laying within. It was a warm day and the sun beat down something inside wanted to break out of the soil, it vibrated and trembled across the river wide and ran at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white Lily moved into the riverbank all alone and bobbing, it suddenly turned upside down and exposed it’s delicate roots searching for a new life, it struggled a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dry cracked soil, for inside new life was waiting and a voice from above bellowed “tell those in the silver craft we have new life.” as the river carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life was born.
