curtain baby

Here, where our mountains become fragrances.
Here, where our musings become clock horses.
Two misguided steps under the ocean, you cant brush it off.
The cleanliness of your ways, is meaning to tell of the scope of understanding
But let this eventual fall take you through a current
Its more about god? Yet, than i? More about the instrumentalism of a God than the rich study of humans. Thats okay, i guess.
How well mannered.
How unseen.

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