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I find my mind will change itself. My body will decay. My thoughts, my dreams, my aspirations turn to low vibrations and whither away. All of these material things that some hold dear to Heart...
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips? Your Hands? Your Laughter? Irreverent of death. I do adore. Hope is there in that we will meet again,
To me, they were all sea-glass and Midsummer morning Seraphic choir song that would whisper words of sweet serenity
My mothers, my maidens, my crones,
I am from lands which weep rain unto us all;From cozy tapestries of cloud and trees like the fingers of God.I am from the sweet, bastard child of Gaia and Hephaestus,Where Nature dances the waltz with Industry
Gazing upon the windows of night, Soft Shells crushed in my hands, I cry as my tears fall upon scattered sand kingdoms. Intricate life scattered like sand upon the beach I stand upon.
“It is said that Prometheus ascended into heaven and secretly lit his torch at the chariot of Helios, in order to bring down fire to man”