via Radiant
A Radiant Esosphere
Of all the brilliance in this world, none compares to the radiant esosphere. For within a sphere unseen, what is seen is the scene of gleen. In between the radial boundaries is discovery of another sort. A tort, a snort, a button’s port, for nothing is as it seems.
To know a beam, its clean, evergreen, within the rainbow of the ball’s withholding, is a turtle’s stride from the inside. The side unseen, it’s smooth edge between, a looking glass does appear. A dark room lit, overcoming smit. What is it?
Noteworthy accolades do depart from such a residence. A bubble felt, do we melt when time does note its park? An esosphere, an endosphere, an exosphere, a plethorosphere, oh dear! What makes sense of swine? Another time, another place, the mirror reflects the face, like a dime inside a lime?
A radiant stride does make its mile when utter other comes asunder. Do we look for making’s maker mark? Do we place the bubble in the ballon? Does wonder’s lover bring toasted discover? Maybe we all just must befallen calling, shalling, and ralling to the inner balling.
But, it makes no difference, the inference is making’s mask. The esospheric radiance does the shining, shall we bask?
