In the casual boil of
a cathedral made by fuselage,
there woke a spoken nebula;
whose awareness sprang and spread
to shreds of mock-mechanics in
the hull of its misfortune.
Eyes attuned to all extension,
mind divulged and, strangely,
vacant. It, she, knew
that there was absence for
swimming and vacuums to
subdue. Form came gratis too,
and her advantage raised,
as her dreams sought purchase
and became something akin
to reality.

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