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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Sunday, December 6, 2015

(155)




As the eagle glides,
I rise
Through layers of fog,
Upto the open sky
I fly. I fly.

By the stars
That tickle the gentle night,
Stooped in space,
Wrapped inside my mind,
Secrets sigh.

In the waves
That don’t keep up with the time,
Dimpled smiles,
You’re everything I find.
Love’s lovely rhymes.

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