Mercurial amulets melting, flowing lava-like towards
unknown paths. What was once feared is now desired
for its mesmerizing beauty and quick-silver movement.

Fickle are the minds that must be titilated by blowing
winds, ever moving in directions unseen, unknowable.

Just as dangerous are the minds that will never change.

Time, the great mystery, is but a purveyor of fortune;
blessing or cursing. Hours march as disciplined soldiers.

Minutes heal or slay victims who do slumber; whisking
away to other realms, those who will never escape sleep.

Yet, a moment of decision is the seed capable of glory.

Alice Parris


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