They stay, stars in the new-moon sky,
as dead as the names of untraceable contellations.
Intrincate, aloof, lonely, abstracted,
...some other mind made them and still since then
they’ve shrunk to a hint at a fairytale. Say I thread beads.
Say I remember a sky of walking pictures.
as dead as the names of untraceable contellations.
Intrincate, aloof, lonely, abstracted,
...some other mind made them and still since then
they’ve shrunk to a hint at a fairytale. Say I thread beads.
Say I remember a sky of walking pictures.
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