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"crystallized" poems
the miniscule, crystallized phenomena floating down on their zephyr gondola to the little children's enchantment. the wintriness nipping at their stamina produced petite gloved hands pulling tightly at their jacket. to rollick the day away was their only commandment. fast forward a few years, and they'll be learning algebra, their minds drifting away during lectures on parabolas to the forgotten days of freedom; they lament the loss of their fragile frostwork taffeta.
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
snowflake
Briskly walking with his head ***** Money and treasure, he aims to get He is in a stampede, chasing wealth Acute shortage of ‘humility and gratitude’ Compels him to slaughter a multitude The desire for more than enough It has crystallized and made his heart tough Oblivious about ‘humility and gratitude’ Man agrees to squash the destitute Unaware, that he may face the same fate Even then he piles up his plate When would he be humble and grateful? For the things which make his life blissful… Even while swallowing all that is unlawful He persistently denies being shameful His conscience reminds him of ‘humility and gratitude’ But he refuses to change his haughty attitude Let me remind you that life is temporary Nothing in this world remains stationary Just like dust your stay is transitory These two traits, ‘humility and gratitude’ Can help you to acquire beatitude Don’t forget your final abode Where good deeds won’t be sold Remember, the fables of the brave and the bold All of them possessed ‘humility and gratitude’ From all this, you may conclude It is the purity of our intentions What Creator expects from his creation Everything else is mere illusion Being a human, demands ‘humility and gratitude’
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Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
Humility and Gratitude
I will miss you like the moon longs for the warmth of the sun in the morning. I will miss you like rain that miss a rainbow. I will miss you like a dry land that longs for water. I will miss you like sand coving the foam waves sweeping away. I will miss you like the end of a twig of trees that can't wait for the dawn to rise. I will miss you like a dead seed that longs for spring. I will miss you like a crystallized virus waiting for the right time to return to life.
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Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 8:42 AM UTC
I Will Miss You Like ...
1. Fallow brown, like he's poured his whole soul out through the gold sieve and lies in wait to be replenished. 2. The color of the ocean. Blue, I guess, but that’s not even the half of it. All the ruggedness of the waves—forming up, breaking, and forming again like life is only the motions. Her eyes are blue, but you could hardly tell. 3. A hand-painted bowl of fresh chocolate frosting from which the most immature hands soonest get a mouthful. 4. Beautiful. Like, drop dead gorgeous. I’d dig my own grave and stick to rolling in it if she ever looked at me some type of way. Their color? I don’t know. But most of all, I dare to wonder about the bludgeoned scar between them. 5. Sturdy cobalt. Far more indicative of her steady heart than gold could ever hope to be. Still susceptible to tear, but not so easily warped by heat or stress. 6. Simply brown. No, red? It’s always been hard to tell through the fog. Truthful like the rawest earth, I’ll call her mahogany. 7. Faded blue spray paint over a slate gray wall. Forcibly muted after her years of blasting music, but there’s still that rogue twinkle to them that I pray slips through the cracks. 8. Coffee, with all the vim and vigor to make you click your heels and fall in love. 9. Unripe lime seen lazing in the shade. Not fit for a margarita just yet, but straining at the bit nonetheless. 10. Hazel, although I still don’t know what the **** that actually is. Whatever. It looks nice on her resume. 11. Green. Or were they blue? The memories of her were too wonderful, too important, that I had to let the littlest details fade away first. 12. The crystallized seafoam that made me realize I deserved to feel alive, too.
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Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 3:09 AM UTC
A dozen pairs of eyes
1. Fallow brown, like he's poured his whole soul out through the gold sieve and lies in wait to be replenished. 2. The color of the ocean. Blue, I guess, but that’s not even the half of it. All the ruggedness of the waves—forming up, breaking, and forming again like life is only the motions. Her eyes are blue, but you could hardly tell. 3. A hand-painted bowl of fresh chocolate frosting from which the most immature hands soonest get a mouthful. 4. Beautiful. Like, drop dead gorgeous. I’d dig my own grave and stick to rolling in it if she ever looked at me some type of way. Their color? I don’t know. But most of all, I dare to wonder about the bludgeoned scar between them. 5. Sturdy cobalt. Far more indicative of her steady heart than gold could ever hope to be. Still susceptible to tear, but not so easily warped by heat or stress. 6. Simply brown. No, red? It’s always been hard to tell through the fog. Truthful like the rawest earth, I’ll call her mahogany. 7. Faded blue spray paint over a slate gray wall. Forcibly muted after her years of blasting music, but there’s still that rogue twinkle to them that I pray slips through the cracks. 8. Coffee, with all the vim and vigor to make you click your heels and fall in love. 9. Unripe lime seen lazing in the shade. Not fit for a margarita just yet, but straining at the bit nonetheless. 10. Hazel, although I still don’t know what the **** that actually is. Whatever. It looks nice on her resume. 11. Green. Or were they blue? The memories of her were too wonderful, too important, that I had to let the littlest details fade away first. 12. The crystallized seafoam that made me realize I deserved to feel alive, too.
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12
Her eyes were pale, a blue crystallized moment frozen like an arctic ocean, frozen in a moment in time, and a beautiful one at that. Her hair, a smooth red, long strands of vanilla scented silk. Whether put up in a bun or let down, there was something about the way it framed her face. When let down, her hair complimented her smile in a way that can only be explained as upper class charm though being an every day country girl, but while also being somewhat natural in an animalistic way. Not in a barbaric sense, but a natural set of waves and curls that when combined with her fierce locking blue eyes seemed to grip my heart and aggressively pull it into her grasp. A sort of fierce sexuality hidden beneath her pale complexion. A fire like body, hair, and personality in equal measure. I, of course, found her beyond the definition of irresistible.
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Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
When The Eyes Meet
*I believed I was immune, invincible;   to the scorching heat of your surface.   That I wouldn't be burned up or   consumed by the fires you stoke. I was not strong enough to endure   and turned to crystallized glass   and fell into your atmosphere,   shattering into sparkles of dust. I fell apart in your atmosphere,   shattered like a comet across   the scorched plains of your   heart and soul. & in the darkness of your being   I look up to your skies and I   see your Aurora Borealis &   I know everything is okay...*
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Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 2:04 PM UTC
Moving In Your Atmosphere
You'll never believe this but, I drank from God's flask the other day. Yeah, Convinced that it was half full Of conscientiousness. Of hope, or passion, or honesty, or somethingworthgivingashitabout. For it had once appeared to many, A beautiful and grand canteen, Forged of liquid silver. And as I allowed the contents to inwardly surge, I realized that it had plunged into the same carnal vessel From whence it came, And the lining of my body had been holding the ancient linings of other bodies, Reincarnate. Romantic, If that's the way you wanna slice it. But There is a recipe for such rapture, And it's been written on pages much less holy than the Bible-- On the coffee stained clipboards of chemists And the meticulous manuscripts of mathematicians. It's made out of the same **** that everything else is made of: Out of the same force that makes you float when you sit in the dead sea, Out of your body's sweat after a hard day's work, Out of the blood in your veins. Salt. All of it, everything, everyone, Salt. Dissolved, crystallized, harvested, ingested, Redissolved, recrystallized, and the cycle repeated.
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Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 11:31 AM UTC
Ye of little faith, indeed.
where were you when I came out? seventeen asleep in a Philadelphia suburb with that man you called boytoy lover caccoon because everyone likes to feel weeks of web crystallized between their sweaty toes I was an unremarkable specimen called yoda because of the hairs on my ears a baby with a flawless twenty digits and hands like a painter’s but love was spring and had to wait for the grass to green and the retrievers to shed their winter coats so their owners could curse and huff and sneeze you precious Kurt Cobain fan and all things hip/hop with those glasses and that hair asked to be my sister but caught unaware with **** in your shorts because you never saw me coming and how alike we were and what if we met somewhere someday and you said yes this is my brother this is the one who I lost in the spring
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Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
spring
Crystallized hair pins gilded in her soft touches Caressing earths ground She sings the earthly creatures gently to sleep with her dream like sound Sensible, sensitive my dear Breathing in the clear dew drops hanging below the gibbous moon. Natures serene dreamer planting their seeds, reaping - but soon one must choose Difficulty arises And despises the force of nature Bends of the crisps wind - if shocks and stirs It blurs her senseless , And shakes her earth. The goddess drinks the goblet of diamond In silk she lays Yet not be mistaken...... Surrounded by serendipity and indulging in life's pleasures The crystals of the golden moon set in her hair Beware she will leave you dreaming in heart ache
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May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 1:47 AM UTC
Taurus
The Gentle Pads Of My Finger Tips Are Frigid, The Skin Under The Lip Of My Shoe Is Raw And Worn, From All The Cautious Steps I've Taken, The Leafy Green Of My Tired Eyes Is Dulled, From Hours Of The Presence Of Vision, The Fraile Glass Windows Are Frosted Over, Crystallized Molecules Whisper To The Half Moon, My Heart In A REM State Of Mind, From All Of It's Beatings, And The Color Which I Portray Is Black, Because It Is The Absortion Of The Artist's Pallette
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Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
Crystallized Molecules
I imagine I can write about war—that god and man have contrasted to the continually shading topaz of bodies being crystallized. stoic, tangled planets overhead— circling as my eyes fill with infinity-pools. your edges fall off when I look up into space to see you without seeing you.
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Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 2:52 PM UTC
stargazing
I remember when you took me corkscrewing down kaleidoscope tunnels for the last time mounting hummingbirds to fly through the crystallized sky air splashing against our skin like an intoxicating perfume, dizzying old daydreams, new friends like humans with spectrum eyes and hair that coiled around their shoulders like serpents, all donning galaxy cloaks reptilian monsters that sprouted raven feathers while chasing each other through smoke trees silhouettes with rusty-nail teeth who danced like leaves in a gale inky, spindly limbs reaching trying to catch the moon fingers entangled like a dreamcatcher We were more then the kings and queens, heroes, idols We were gods, ruling from the velvet mountains to the silken seas, everything beneath the candlesmoke clouds and the caramel sun that drips like wax everything shining beneath the stars made out of that smoldering purple dust we know so well always whispering to us in scritch-scratch voices reciting elegies and hush-hush songs of longing but then, reality ignites and burns beneath us as we soar, elysian fields crumbling, flames consuming the wonderland we’ve built that is nothing but a paper thin house of tarot cards the future written with seeping poison ink We are left keening in the ashes, tears to late to douse the inferno but maybe they will help some seedling fester beneath the scorched earth
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
The Paradise addiction built
It is my conviction That life began inside of a dimly lit corridor. Not with a flash of brilliant light, Inside of the creator's grand hall. Not even in the decency of a simple room, No. It was an accident that happened when the Gods tripped over their robes, Simply walking On their way to the heavenly mess hall for coffee and a drag, Shaking the proverbial gold dust off of their feet So that it slipped through the cracks in the marble And crystallized in random little patterns, Wherever they happened to step. Beauty, some are bold enough to call it. And I'll find it on my face sometimes, Those golden remnants,   When the weather is warm and I've eaten a little less that day. I will linger in my mirror to see where they've landed As I whisper sweet nothings to myself, Wishing I were worthy of these repercussions of The Great Biochemical Accident. But once in a while, Someone will come along who tells me that I'm wrong. Once in a while, Somebody has enough gall, Somebody has enough, call it grace, To peel those golden freckles from my face, And to hold them gently in their palm, Perceiving them to be precious.
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Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 8:40 AM UTC
The Worth Of Gold.
I want to write a poem but I have to write code instead There can be a kind of poetry in code especially my code I'm proud of the elegant design of my loops and logics my streamlined systems My code flows pulling the User along effortlessly guiding them gracefully from one end of the black box to the other and out again No Errors My code flows secret haikus left in comment blocks for other programmers to find like digital hieroglyphics on virtual cave walls test data populated with pantheons and mystical chants from faraway lands My code flows water of ones in sea of zeroes pouring through me from aether to mind to muscle to machine bit by bit block by block stacked upon stack module into module through function and parameters passed My code flows flows through me until the integer flips the Boolean switch change of state status update now compiled and crystallized Executable and then passed on leaving me out of my hands disseminated to The Users like a prayer to a congregation I hear the clicking fingers of their choir singing the song of my code now flowing through Them
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Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
Electric Ego
from      time        to      time there is     a romance      of being       alone    the     imaginations       she  powdered                                  generously    upon the   colorless  reality.       metaphors   that she sews    upon the   sleeves                          of     melancholy. her girlfriends   and she    roamed                  the    ups  and     downs of the  earth, while their        mothers screamed                                     for   them      to be ladylike.      saturday afternoons, they   procrastinated    upon   pastries and     honey                  crystallized           fairy      tales courteous     animals                                  riding on the      coattail of      dreams       a lighthearted                feeling    others tried to      snooze. they    observe things         through glitters    of their vapor.     they dote on the    humor of ice    creams                        and sunlight       of   scarlet pink.     as we    laugh    with charm,                                             what a    way   with words,                  a   lopsided    smile, a      head    of   curls,                                         a    flock     of  girls.
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Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
Girlhood
from      time        to      time there is     a romance      of being       alone    the     imaginations       she  powdered                                  generously    upon the   colorless  reality.       metaphors   that she sews    upon the   sleeves                          of     melancholy. her girlfriends   and she    roamed                  the    ups  and     downs of the  earth, while their        mothers screamed                                     for   them      to be ladylike.      saturday afternoons, they   procrastinated    upon   pastries and     honey                  crystallized           fairy      tales courteous     animals                                  riding on the      coattail of      dreams       a lighthearted                feeling    others tried to      snooze. they    observe things         through glitters    of their vapor.     they dote on the    humor of ice    creams                        and sunlight       of   scarlet pink.     as we    laugh    with charm,                                             what a    way   with words,                  a   lopsided    smile, a      head    of   curls,                                         a    flock     of  girls.
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24
Maybe we’re all just snowflakes; nothing more than crystallized water from above, doomed to finally land and melt into nothing. We are snowflakes, plowed and pushed by what is bigger so that we may be out of its way. We are all falling through a path fated from the start with a fluffy and slow descent, and an ending we all see coming. Thousands fall each minute, and each one is unique. But we’d never know if a snowflake four miles away is identical or not. Who could prove it? They tell us that is the truth, so we catch it on our tongues and swallow down the minuscule truth. We are snowflakes. And it makes me sad.
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Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
Snowflakes
As sands flow through The glass this hour My will Stays free And filled with power Now is the time To act and choose To plant and sow No sand - to lose Creation comes As no surprise For all my Thoughts Get crystallized
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Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 10:01 AM UTC
The Hourglass (Prosperity Poem 102)
*chosen child for nature's creativity tangoing to the sway of twilight trees such spiritually sensual sensibilities hypersensitivity heightening passion life intensified in intellectual interest love embellished with emotional empathy oh, to bottle her elusive essence to drink in her wistful nights to infuse my tea with her promise to scent my pillow with her dreams uncork the atmospheric aroma of sepia tinged crescents wafting in celestial patisseries sweeten the clear blue skies with mists of crystallized honey perfuming the divine aether oh, fill my breath with her ephemeral synchronize my life's pulse to the metronome ponytails of skipping girls followed by the tails of wagging dogs*
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Crazed Potpourri
When I walk through the woods, I enter another world. Everything is in high definition. The breeze occurs in pitches, singing a song for no one in particular. The wind cares not if anyone is listening, for it will blow regardless. Dead leaves, the final victims of the end of winter, crunch underfoot. They care not if anyone walks over them, for they will be crisp either way. It is a warm day, and I find a clearing where the Sun shines just right. I can feel its radiance on every inch of my body. A pleasant pause in the middle of a cold, never-ending winter, today is unreasonably warm. The Sun reaches all the way through me, and melts away the frost which has crystallized over my heart. It feels like magic but I know it is not. The Sun cares not if I bask in it. It is here that everything exists in perfect harmony. The pine trees, tall and prominent, provide for the tiniest creatures. The puddles, formed from the melting snow, are just as important as the rocks by the shore of the pond. Nothing in nature cares whether it is being acknowledged or appreciated. It just exists. Every day, whether plump raindrops fall from the sky or intricate snowflakes, it exists. I understand that the woods do not desire a human presence, so I continue walking, leaving as few footprints possible.
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May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 7:28 AM UTC
Walking Through the Woods
Emerald green eyes Never tell lies At birth crystallized Mother Earth's satisfied Forever attached to ones heart Not controlling, but a partner To guide you through this wild life To hold your heart, yet not too tight Emerald green Not with envy Green with love And warming hugs Embedded deep inside your soul To lead you with it's ivy gold To make your heart sweet and bold Your blood is red, your heart's emerald
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Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 4:10 PM UTC
Emerald
I reject God as he dances around In his heavens in his expansive freedom While the neglected human spirit Remain chained to the confines Of this world While he sits back Overlooks With a neglectful apathy All Gods drop away in my mind As I turn my back on the Lord I bow to the power of human spirit Engulfed and surrounded By the darkness of their mortality I still see the defiance in their stair Engulfed by a face of fear Eyes shine bright like two Sparkling stars in the dead of night Saying NO NO NO To the darkness TRAPPED TRAPPED TRAPPED Deep down in their darkness Buried under under under FAR FAR FAR From any heaven above As they feel no God down here BLACK BLACK BLACK Pitch blackness , Coal Crushes with an engulfing fear From every side Birth presses from below And death presses from above Compressed into an inescapable DARKNESS!!! But the human spirit Relentlessly fights back Abandoned by God It defiantly pushes back At the darkness deemed to Destroy it Atoms of the soul Unify themselves into Perfect alignment As they become an Impenetrable army That stands firm and says No to the darkness YOU SHALL NOT PASS Crystallized under great Pressure the soul Becomes the perfect diamond As nothing is stronger , harder Greater than the human spirit
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Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
THE STRENGTH OF HUMAN SPIRIT
Mushrooms And our lives really are nicely shaped primitive blunders filtered and fashioned out of that dream sense you always speak of And the world still holds tight we sit still staring motionless at the ground layered twirling and shifting beneath us Until the dust this golden speechless dust its ghostness enough to rise up cloudy into my red skin Your red skin getting finer even more crystallized than those bright blue veins We are worlds turned upside down newer than this world of psychedelic rocks Ancient trees stare at us chess pieces the tumbling ground filling now with infinite prairies and valleys and dancing sand dunes Does it hurt sometimes? losing to the thoughts of turning back comes close to blindness sometimes this fading clarity breathing and sighing I close my eyes enough now to feel the throbbing sun absorb me I'm awake I remember Jake Mahaffey Copyright (c) 2013 Jacob Mahaffey
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Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
Mushrooms
what is this the sound of a voice a faint crackle over the line burning icicle dipped into ink of my dark zipped in a fracture            through space woven in time the sound of it            penetrates a heated          arctic zing of light into the soul and your words caress places that would not be reached in life's daily hold I would look into your eyes my blues to yours two vast oceans never ending This might express the divinity of the word "love" This might express a fraction of the feeling                 and this alone could be all consuming but the real expression would be my mouth devouring yours       my tongue exploring your lips and all that's inside my starlight infusing your being as we press into the silken matter as the levity of skin that brushes like silk as your actual saliva and *** are my nourishment, like heaven's milk and our cells ignite in slow movement as we gasp and sigh the air around us invisible velvet I want beyond internet I want beyond a small, mirrored screen I need to drink your luster as we inhale the soft, molten folds as we break open and drink deep inner liquids as we crack and the flow of the       electric river slides     through and within, intermingling auras tingling Just take me,       already let me feel the imprint of your fingers upon my wrists let your kisses mark my secret spaces Rush into me as a river before we   simultaneously          combust for if I have to hear your vocal chords one more time I will     explode into      fragments of      crystallized                   dust
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Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 3:54 PM UTC
beyond screens
what is this the sound of a voice a faint crackle over the line burning icicle dipped into ink of my dark zipped in a fracture            through space woven in time the sound of it            penetrates a heated          arctic zing of light into the soul and your words caress places that would not be reached in life's daily hold I would look into your eyes my blues to yours two vast oceans never ending This might express the divinity of the word "love" This might express a fraction of the feeling                 and this alone could be all consuming but the real expression would be my mouth devouring yours       my tongue exploring your lips and all that's inside my starlight infusing your being as we press into the silken matter as the levity of skin that brushes like silk as your actual saliva and *** are my nourishment, like heaven's milk and our cells ignite in slow movement as we gasp and sigh the air around us invisible velvet I want beyond internet I want beyond a small, mirrored screen I need to drink your luster as we inhale the soft, molten folds as we break open and drink deep inner liquids as we crack and the flow of the       electric river slides     through and within, intermingling auras tingling Just take me,       already let me feel the imprint of your fingers upon my wrists let your kisses mark my secret spaces Rush into me as a river before we   simultaneously          combust for if I have to hear your vocal chords one more time I will     explode into      fragments of      crystallized                   dust
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90
I woke up this morning, and looked out of my window; A sky filled with crystallized oceanic hues created a heavenly glow upon all that I have ever learned. I am unshakable.
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Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
Purity