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Jun 2015
The sun smiles childlike...
its light is full and fickle--
a burning blindness at one
with what must be done.
The places to call home,
and the beings that abide
there...all made up of
something like the sun.
Whose spirit hides in
plain sight.
Onoma
Written by
Onoma  (N)ow(Y)ou(C)an
((N)ow(Y)ou(C)an)   
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