RED FLY NATION, dispensational

The new dawn faded, thither I followed the descending sun, while living in downtown Lexington. The band was inspiring, but not for me to do things supporting it, but rather as a cause-accompli in my reaction to the world, my fait. No one has regrets, least of all anyone knowing those times in distant cognizance, however something was unsettled. I needed only to turn corners, those being dusty & worn, unremarkable, but nuanced enough to say I had forward thinking. The 3rd st. house we lived together in, the 6 of us, had me undetermined where I'd remain--if only to get the ball rolling, a current taking me into the bounds in which my then girl-friend vested her critique of our relationship, to which the plain suggestion to me was get-on-board. Literally I walked out of the house(apt) toward the settling evening air, out across the st. from Lex. cemetery, & sat under a tree in the parking lot. Still enough sun was gleaming for an allowance of alliterative resolve--my esoteric book defied the lack of patterns I'd forsaken, & given me something at stake. (I think the author was Madam Blavatskii, her mysticism-something book I stole from Sqecial Media, which considering the beneficence of the place I felt almost blasphemous.) If the coffers of the compassionate void grants us a powerspot now & again, I knew it wasn't for the moment instructive to bide those places AMONGST--(too bad, I know). But I prized the connections in relationship as something to get back to, if only... & for me that was clearly defined in the stands of trees which rustled w/ otherness, & in which I sensed the impending thunder (which we all heard), & yet I was left naked w/o a rain dance.