Misunderstood by time, I am in love with the wilderness of your gaze. A festive breeze is woven into the hair, bringing warmth and the scent of spring. If we dance without having a sense of rhythm, our hearts will finally find mirror images. Souls are still in love with their singing, they still avoid the most beautiful but neglected words. God, having lost his dominion over the world, has not recently abandoned his solitude on the edge of this decaying planet.
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