A poem to Raymond, whom everybody loves, originally composed on a waterproof smartphone in a sea of love, which was hidden under the pile of garbage that my bum-pals that have no pen names, or pen-pals, or names, for that matter, brought to me as an offering on the 1st of April 1877, exactly 111 years and 7 months before I was brought forth to this world, because some anonymous prophet told them this would bring luck, joy, happiness, food, and, of course – shelter from evil (he was lying):If it’s fantasy you seek,to E. Feist then, you must speak.All he writes is all there is,for his words, they move the seas..I would write, but I know naught.In my heart there is a draught.Hidden desert – golden sands.Few my love can ever stand.And so far I’ve talked to many,a reply – will there be any?I know – not, yet I know naught,all to question, I was taught…So I learn, I borrow wisdom,from the great, the ones with vision.They can teach, the few that grasp,concepts from a long forgotten past. ― Will Advise, Nothing is here…

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A poem to Raymond, whom everybody loves, originally composed on a waterproof smartphone in a sea of love, which was hidden under the pile of garbage that my bum-pals that have no pen names, or pen-pals, or names, for that matter, brought to me as an offering on the 1st of April 1877, exactly 111 years and 7 months before I was brought forth to this world, because some anonymous prophet told them this would bring luck, joy, happiness, food, and, of course – shelter from evil (he was lying):If it's fantasy you seek,to E. Feist then, you must speak.All he writes is all there is,for his words, they move the seas..I would write, but I know naught.In my heart there is a draught.Hidden desert - golden sands.Few my love can ever stand.And so far I've talked to many,a reply - will there be any?I know - not, yet I know naught,all to question, I was taught...So I learn, I borrow wisdom,from the great, the ones with vision.They can teach, the few that grasp,concepts from a long forgotten past. ― Will Advise, Nothing is here...
A poem to Raymond, whom everybody loves, originally composed on a waterproof smartphone in a sea of love, which was hidden under the pile of garbage that my bum-pals that have no pen names, or pen-pals, or names, for that matter, brought to me as an offering on the 1st of April 1877, exactly 111 years and 7 months before I was brought forth to this world, because some anonymous prophet told them this would bring luck, joy, happiness, food, and, of course – shelter from evil (he was lying):If it's fantasy you seek,to E. Feist then, you must speak.All he writes is all there is,for his words, they move the seas..I would write, but I know naught.In my heart there is a draught.Hidden desert - golden sands.Few my love can ever stand.And so far I've talked to many,a reply - will there be any?I know - not, yet I know naught,all to question, I was taught...So I learn, I borrow wisdom,from the great, the ones with vision.They can teach, the few that grasp,concepts from a long forgotten past. ― Will Advise, Nothing is here...

A poem to Raymond, whom everybody loves, originally composed on a waterproof smartphone in a sea of love, which was hidden under the pile of garbage that my bum-pals that have no pen names, or pen-pals, or names, for that matter, brought to me as an offering on the 1st of April 1877, exactly 111 years and 7 months before I was brought forth to this world, because some anonymous prophet told them this would bring luck, joy, happiness, food, and, of course – shelter from evil (he was lying):If it’s fantasy you seek,to E. Feist then, you must speak.All he writes is all there is,for his words, they move the seas..I would write, but I know naught.In my heart there is a draught.Hidden desert – golden sands.Few my love can ever stand.And so far I’ve talked to many,a reply – will there be any?I know – not, yet I know naught,all to question, I was taught…So I learn, I borrow wisdom,from the great, the ones with vision.They can teach, the few that grasp,concepts from a long forgotten past.
― Will Advise,

Nothing is here…

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