

-Spread your angelic wings, With barren-hearted joy.-
Mind's substance swims, In a clear, holy lagoon.
Timidly they open their eyes, Into Sleep's child they rise, Meek faces tear into smiles, Death swallows up their placid cries.
Matter - streams ghostly down, From Dimension's fountain. And divine icons imbibe, While we silently drown.
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Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief. All kill their inspirations, and sing about their grief. ~U2
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EE Hyndman Photography
Thanks so much!
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EE Hyndman Photography
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This is where I have always been coming to. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point to which everything ran, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, and those other times are running elsewhere.
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This is where I have always been coming to. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point to which everything ran, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, and those other times are running elsewhere.
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This is where I have always been coming to. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point to which everything ran, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, and those other times are running elsewhere.
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Life is a sickness, and the only cure is death... But still, everyone avoids the death as long as they can... Why? Everybody are masochists...
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