I never think of the future - it comes soon enough. - Albert Einstein

Hills of Number

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A fair draft delivers the sun cascaded Inhaled over the hills Become wrapped up Into its filling process Entering through the nose the flavour Comprises of the different pollen Becoming one in the nostril Smell the light dim refracted Come to know what time it is Specific impressions become separated From the one you feed to being fed Opening the lock destroys the content Pandora's box is the analysis thereof In Set theory there exists such a card One that proves itself

© CuldeSac


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