I sought nothing waking into the morning, very early without grasping again through out the empty air, brushing invisibly once more something like before, those reddened dying leaves that segment themselves falling to the earth, emulating the original aether on dry ground. Searching nothing as they sink into the wind dispersed upon the world’s 4 corners. The immaculate angles of which the Holy contours disappear.
A disaster for whom, while all sleep? Naturally seeking nothing, like a wandering mind, careless in a dead brain. I beseech the squared circle.
It’s the sincere and single heart watches as the tide of crumbling things moves on into oblivion. This seemly circonstance in an uncomely corridor leading to a goal between a room and a room, dark curtains likes clouds upon the abyss, unrevealing.
But the particules go amuck. Silence dominates in the desert hills around me. Doom for the body…
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