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Orakhal Sep 2020
From the great dust bowl of infinity, birth sat ready on the lip of time,
no not I , until the grill of sun made its home in the chesty melt of crystal dust come hither from the rip of a burning blue azzure,torn thru the fabric of universal skin I bled my bounty dry and pressed my eye to the moons harrow , face frozen to the light of mystical embrace, beatified to the pallet of eternal bleed upon the gallop of thought chasing memory to the seed, stood foreign on the freeway of emotion

— The End —