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Mar 2017
In the fountain revelry of a
simple moment

My face is ignited with sparklers
there are crowds shouting joyously

the Omikoshi emerges from my hidden theatre of shut eyes

I still haven't seen you carve out a home within the hilltop

I have never heard your voice cry into the deserted afternoon

where everyone has abandoned their post for sour milk,

(it was just as Shiva commanded)

in a purist's wisdom that we shall sew together

A dramatic sepulchre of landscapes &

BalancedΒ shrines which release

pinkish children to the Spring
Written by
Connor  23/M/MSH
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