roman

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stone i live in a cold world with my cold hands and the cold bodies around me creating creatures i'll never hold statues fill my dinner table and if i imagine they are talking to me they are
Flitting through the trees She runs Like the quicksilver moon High in the clear night sky   He passes through the dark trees Striding onward with some mysterious purpose
  Folly then, not folly now Earth about the sun revolves Aristarchus, show us how Minds resist yet thought evolves Puzzle through the paths so cryptic Crossing orbit and ecliptic Or lean
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