-09.15.2023-
It's distinct enough to link a ravishing blink.
Two swings made, a sinking dream, fading ink.
Got a nature of oblique, over the utterance
To dig or to love – to observe is muffled luck.
Whenever arrives or drives away, the only mighty
Sight to tighten this idoled right; still of plight.
Unsettlement is embedded: never even dreamt
Of its nest but to play ones best: lie in rest.
If tautologized so far makes no sense.
Breaking the pattern that matters not may help:
It exists in moments of comes and goes,
And dies in ever pausing instance, left is beauty
But clarity aids in vain when charisma strikes:
Have to describe in reverie, a further rise:
Graver's lurch lurked in nerves, urged a surge;
To merge, but was murdered in Earth's burn
While noses of loon loosened in swoon:
What flew in mood clung to stooge.
-Look! Should look! Yes, distantly looked. An obsolete hook.
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