My first sole little letter calling all, ringing so beauteously-muse-like and winged, like the eternally gentle pinion of a melancholic harp.

Dear valued, mellow, quaint readers-dreamers!

At 5:30 pm, the meek time has come with the dream-full inception, so that a new flimsy Sturm and Drang period has begun (the second Sturm and Drang, to wit: the turquoise time). And I am spellbound therefrom simply. Such an one fulfilled miracle with a starry charm of a magic-full summer night has enforced in some fantasy. Any best poem from me and any glimmer of the philosophy from me haven’t achieved that, but rather the most marvelous eyes of my cat such ghosts, in which the primeval ontologies of the antiquity slumbered in the lyrically Edenic way. The cat has looked at my dog plainly dulcet, what kindled a magical stark of time-philosophy and unveils spirit-like. These sparks aren’t able to be blazing fiercely like a handful of Luther’s flames, but they are glowing: tenderly as well as lovingly, in fine—muses-like as enchanted Apollonian moments, that touch deeply everybody’s souls and that cherish a daydreams-wizardry everlasting, Zeus-like. And this cat is such a dainty, dreamy herder of the infinite angelic philosophy, and those cats from time immemorial have harbored primeval weirdness from Egypt.

From cat’s eyes an eternity comes, which came along on my account at that early date. At the moment a second era of Sturm and Drang is sparked, a primeval wild dream is freed and ready for the fantasy of the moon in the wonderful night.

The turquoise time is sore contemporary created and always Internet-oriented. This melancholy-period comprises all poems in English from contemporary authors, who will write their most gorgeous poems from 1 July to 31 December 2019 and will publish them on sundry Internet pages.