serenity is a blanket born from obscurity whisked in the early morning hours
and tempered in the song of the strongest arms swingin' in the wind, whistling
with every stroke that comes down on the bleary-eyed afternoon air,
breathing itself in and going down to meet the dandelions,
sifting in and out of consciousness, furious eyes alive with solemn requests and
suggestions but silent for all of their composure under blazes raging through
a breezeblown valley's golden limbs and lines, a wheat field basking in the soggy
disposition of the sky crescendos a building shriek across the bouncing hill
while dying grass uproots and traces godly loops in the aether's still
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