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Waxing Pearlescent

therein lies the vastness of a doubtful mind in question with all things answering round rings

bellowing what it is to be againe up from the abyss wherein one dwells within where each

trail splits and, following suit, none other than so to be more meandering through meadows

glowing for trailing webst of lucid spit, oft the glow-worms glowing mischief, lucidally, and at

dalliance in the most hideous of dances just for to lift senses drowning engulfed in the black

flames that seep through the seams like water bound by glass, deeper and evermoreso the

pervasive incessant longingness to be escaped reality one thousand and one times to find

the entrance once more just stone archway stoned by artfull daggers thrown through sharply

a diamonds edge seperated light beams twisted and cannot be seen to untangle the mind

from out of the mindless morning dews of golden dawns newly arising sun just moments ago

it twas' like a knife in the guts torn through with it what could it be against lost revelations to

being just almost had answers falling away from the lips of a mind speaking languages verse

versed in time with spaces indimensional round the chamber for the towered stairs oft found

for the stars to be had just, moments ago the momentum of all of time, and time for sand, o

to be thrown for a loop in the crooked spiraling of madness for madmen just thinking what it

is that could be left within each manuscript, it was then that I had finally returned to the hall-

way, after staring again at the question left too repeatedly asked, found myself once more

unto the breach, once more again far away from the end of the looking glass barely and

abruptly each vision painted in each the hallways frame hangs far above the head cloaked

still, the mask in looking back is entropy and all exists beyond the perspective of prophecy

it was just a moment that it was wasn't it ever it will be something far away from me to ever

believe and yet, fall, and in falling, what is it to be longing for something only to be known

as what it is, a seed of doubt within an endeavour the question that seeks to answer itself

find each knot in the webstring leads to another corner and round each corner the thread

leads to more skulls hanging in the vastness of the starlaid plot of the universal goddess

struck by the hand couldst almost contain the laughter i haven't thought of it twice or more

every one in each leads to more thoughts not to think about and in one ferocious reflection

all rises to fall against the mirrored face before the white mask removed to find nothingness

at the end, nonsense, that is what this is, nonsense, all leaping crickets grasshopper, twas o

twas barely just the light upon the sanctuary of the garden of introductions met, a hand, or

have thee seen then the fountain of life spilling over the weeping coloured massacre of a

single instance valued more than all of forever to be painting leaves in black & white & grey

all things for the moment, darling, and every hand to be hand is another dear, for to display

each feather falters in the wavering light as heat rises from the ever prevelant goodness that

is the sun burning evolution down by the wick laid to the wasted epiphany, like a vast ocean

that ocean, avast, waxing pearlescent, a ship set sail to make its due course east wind, for

seemingly enough there once was an I, was I once alive, yet to be reminded of the beginning

begging for a vision oft had by others so in frequency that, frequently enough, minds belief

is madness to the nonsense of miraculous dissection between each light, thrown, between

each moving masses, a number, between each number read, all movement ceases to be

as space needs times for specificity, and in each time what then to be deciphering forbidden

like music it is akin to knowledge exposing wisdom for as wisdom is to reinterpret harmony

melodies float through things unknown as each note lingers to the self of selves in deeper

ideals, yet what couldst though ever ask of for more than to be, evermore lost in the hallway

thoughts flowing for the stream, remember again what it is to be, I couldn't believe mortal

pains immortal longing toward all that lies between the two, of everything and nothingness

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