Spirals
to the mountains.
From purple waves
to a sudden warmth.
The sun stays mellow
as it shows.
Something as it comes
out of
the mistakes
turned gold.
Is a lesson to grasp
or a curse to control?
Knowledge is a prison
of its most dominant
escort.
A lone beast that wanders
into the night.
Prowls its way
into Reality's
marrow.
For it stances
as it glances.
And it dazzles
glorious
darkness
to fill the space.
For it is my duty
to persist,
my path
to patch
the scars of a
world
too hot
to handle
on its own
accord.
Now,
it re-escalates
all sound
into a compress
ball of matter
and time.
Now,
all humans erode
their layers
in order to
try to
control.
A roar that can be heard
coming down the slope.
Be ready for His claws.
Be ready to
Never Stop.
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