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Knocking on inner doors throughout catacombs,
mosaics.Being partially hidden in darkness, covered bythe shadows of midnight.
Differences scattering themselves within, not caring who is what or if something’s there.
Waking to a special reverie, wandering pathways lighted with fiery depths deep within souls.Fragrantly teasing scents tossed upon gentle midnight breezes, spelling out new horizons veiled by hidden conspiracies and put on display to be seen on future days.
Laces of time lie unbroken upon sacred ground.
Forging into deep, black nights, brought on by literary plights,hesitantly authors write duos of many words.Fighting silentlessly back and forth, trying to be the first to write the world’s greatest books.Mesmerized by the talent of others, left alone, to come up with words of their own.Jostling everything, just to have some peace and quiet, totaling…
Swinging in a swaying breeze, gently thinking of
played and learned of everything around them.Touching listlessly, images of then, wishing tobe able to go back in time right now, again.Innocence of pure heart’s beauty sits placatinglyin minds today.Reminiscing and watching life blossom before eyesof snowy purity and echoes of love throughoutfate’s insistence, with equality meted out unevenly.
Intensely feeling the beat of my heart in the middle of the night, forging indentations in my sleep patterns, creating vicious cycles of involvement, not wavering at all.
Entitling rhythms, causing many journeys to embellish traits as they crawl through all manner of turmoil and turbulence.Actuating necessary behavior in sections of perfect storms, left out to sea with no reverberations to bring them back to reality.