Defenestration: to be thrown through a window.
Petrichor: the scent of rain on dry earth.

Strawberry Ponderings
Here in life, desire and emotions, are so dominating.
is there nothing more we find ourselves consumed by?
No greater interaction with universe, nature, or that ephereal
plane of existence where the substance of humanity means naught.
Perchance we obsess of sounds.
the tick in each tick and the knack of the burble.
Would the physiological orgasm brought by an audio stimuli be
enough to operate by?
And what of the soul? So invisible and containing no real matter.
One could say it ceases the substance.
Without our bread the sound, are we then condemned the sin of silence?
I am but a creature, indeed led by buried, loam-covered instincts.
no better than our neighbors.
This eases the world in mine eyes? Words of play and cute modifications?
Mysticism and magic, these are the orders sent by my god.
He commands that each dawn's wake is the tale of metamorphosis.
Cognitive, I ingest this prophesy with utter hope.