Tuesday January 3, 2017
The creamy sun surrenders beyond those noble mountains. Right over there. Now the day is dark and the fire cracks and the stars begin their distant chants. It's safe to dance. Only the grass can tell how much you care. But it's not about you. It's about the dying embers, the ones that speak unspoken colors the ones that breathe forgotten flames. If you listen they'll teach you how think in shades of molten light as they burn their way through the dizzy shadows of your moving flesh. These scorching hours remind me that summer lessons come in autumn hues.
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