In the horizon, Venus. Diamond pendant on infinity,
chiseled aeon shining to the brief stature of minutes,
cut out in magnitude and lit reflective from an echo 
off its own helion mass charged realm while we,
beholden for verse, pitch cyan dreams on immit
tongues. Engage life through momentary senses 
and sculpt into song in effect deviation. Make
congruent fallen effort that projects while volume
flits along, just enough, to attend toward silence. 
Open fables but spoken in the mouth of dissolution,
on parsed shores from a nebular ocean. Ephemeral
components, there upon a dark peace of mortality: 
me, a hill side, the dwell of years dipping of night
ground lost to the violaceous temperature in lilac,
thymergasia eroding down to bone, quartzite spark.

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