I detest the dark,
do not favor the umbra,
that somber mystique.
The rays of light beckon me,
I breathe the morning splendor.
do not favor the umbra,
that somber mystique.
The rays of light beckon me,
I breathe the morning splendor.
Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...
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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.