A year an ear what air!  Into the stoop of a risen sun — i, if i one day learn.  i have always been soft, round, and mellow, and till then; a seemingly comfortable world of softest infancy …under fire i into the warm! heated! reflective!my bitch is five weeks late!  How delightfully airy! & radiant! clear! starry! silent!massless! & unreadable & pallid! uncreated! eternal. young! wondrous! world of ever-new
beginnings…& i…To those i gently return, in love i over him: the thyrsus & tuberoses& pomegranates & ashpauls. Garden’s path. Ever the soil is of the grain & meadow’s adornment. Yeah(that) i aethiram i uthereth. i was dark i was to be. and was”

(from the book of Chrystalish — There’s a Riot of Burning Heart. Chicago: Randur House, 2320.)

“Well, it’s true, though you don’t see them celebrated much, these holy fools.”

:: 04.09.2318 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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