Rustic gravy

This one is true but the names have been changed.

All things considered the collaborating speed of a guru is dependent upon the ideological sum of the parts made up from the whole and notwithstanding the endless river of understanding to bathe in once a day and all things being equal this is so most of the time.

Nevertheless, never let it be said that those with a predisposition to squander their time away in endless thoughts of thinking are more or less equal to the others who don’t, regardless of whether there’s an original idea or not.

Suffice to say: there’s nothing wrong or right in being a born again, when Heaven sends you the winning lotto ticket just be grateful and have a good time because there’s nothing like a hot motorbike dinging in the cool-down but if the dispensation pace of the machine is ten times to the power of nought most of the time then take out the big hammer and shake it until it gets going again; and you could say that’s why hammers were invented.

But the unofficial king of China carrying his bag of coal could not make head nor tail of anything as of late, but being six feet under would cause that and there was really nothing he could do about it anymore anyway.

“Today or not today to be the reason why would take a whole lot more explanation than what it’s worth,” said the man with two hands getting into a car with four doors and driving away down the three-lane highway under a single hot sun to the doorman who was left far behind.

So, what do you do with an empty promise when it’s gone stale? Do you put it in the fridge so it lasts longer in the hope it will be redeemed? Or do you hop on a motorbike and ride away into the sunset?

She was a tight-rope walker’s daughter so she knew how to pray well and she also knew how to juggle lemons as her mother was the other half of a juggling trio.

Well, you know how it goes, sometimes there are more lemons than the dance can explode and this is when the fire-eaters come on to take what cannot be taken to somewhere else...

And then Zen put her foot into it as she was walking backwards and fell over into her dinner so the sun-bird said to her: “Go forth and multiply,” so she did but it was an unusual arrangement of rusty bolts that wouldn’t conjugate so she gave up on that until the penetrating oil had done its job.

And then she was thinking about herbs and doing quite nicely until the rustic gravy came along and then she had to make her escape as you do but lost her place and had to begin anew in another furthest place from the margin; but never mind, the block can be bypassed with a thrust in the dark to see what’s there; and then pulling out all that can be found to find it’s a two way matter to be mulled over after breakfast, so never let it be said that there’s no way back from this regardless of what they tell you otherwise, even if you do fall into the rustic gravy.

Image is mine but may also be on Pixabay

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