Let us start from the beginning of creation.
Where black and white roses become colorless stars.
Mixing up ink blots to decipher our notation.
There is a castle made of ink, a castle made of glass.
Collecting poetry to fill up our empty honey jars.
Piecing together the crowns of imagination.
Emptying the figments of poetry into our scars.
Hope to see you soon, hope to meet you in the mass.
Threading what we can to pull up a formation.
Laughing it off in a white teeth crested sunset.
A sequence of moments leading to collation.
A sequence of moments we will eventually pass.
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