Sloughing off the enslavement of cerebral dipsomania, one brings already hoary hairs to be even closer in the neighboring dust of docility. It may happen that I shall be unbearably isolated, but why lust after temporal tenets and esoteric gold coins of insight; when the populace deserves my aggregated tenderness?
We all are mute without a harmonious effervescent connection to celestial benevolence. Healing words only flow in reality when their waters' source runs without taint.
[19:12|08.1.015] ©c.thom
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