The forlorn pines for the joyful to find it

The joyful longs for the forlorn to join it

Collapsing time

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Our shadow lies in influence. The intervalent silks melting glycerine into the moments’ cure. Amber, rippling through the silicon prairies. Astral brushing its sequence, on the selcouth terrene brinks. Gardens swallow the ashen rents of past. Rowboats lune in pomme alette. She smiles upon the connections. Music, mageing her kinetic atlas. Borderlands, Trinitrotoluene parked in wet. Uningeminate, still. Hummingbird glowing in shinboku shadow. How our naves, connect. What is often a threshold, woven in appointments’ placeless fern. What is often a miracle, manifest in movements’ kinæsthetic stir. Images of the goddess are nothing. Compared to her sequin alidade spear