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Day's End: A mellow moon rise.
Folder:
Conscience The sweet colorful death of a day
Makes obvious
The blind crisis of self-actualization.
Through the misty vulgarity of what life
Is, and what life could be
The trees breeze in the silence
Of the moons warm sunrise,
And I wade in the slow moods of Baroque Classics
And resonate in a headache from the end
Of the midnight blues.
And it’s the beginning of the middle
And the middle of the end
Of love and belonging
