I sense there is something in the wind. Electric waves of eternal movement majestic. Can you sense the sagacity? Radio waves, the Bristlecone pine, the depth of root which only the catacombs covet. Stand in the blistering wind with your back glossed in silence, you’ll feel it. Can you feel it? What will be come of us, if our truth becomes earthed under the soft and luring moss. Weave a spindled net of yearning words to capture it. Will you feel it then? Imagines of dancing specters clutching the faintest whispers undulating under cloaks of haze. Lucid haunting enchantment, I can’t shake this feeling, it is just around the bend. Paramount mysteries, matriculating intricacies, continent and seas. So very soon you will be with me.
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