gold be gold until yellow vines droop,
drawing a picture of ancient altitudes
superpassing any newage rust,
songs from soul for not gold
shiver with hoarse barks and graceful glides,
melting - the sky like a reserved tomb
an ornamental stage
rolling do winds into sun playground,
what stars filter our grace shine no fright,
flickering their cyrstal polen glaze over a black canvas rose
while pettles fall softly into sleeping dreams
awake, feels the wisdom inside me
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