He can hear the old invaders swan song.
In Neptune's weary depths walks a tired Adam.
His eyes the colour of placid mornings in an English village.
His class is a huge bottle
he has no notion that he is unfolding
like the sails of a ship
and will soon be discontent with it's limits.
This muddle gets into his mind.
The church of his body remains unaffected.
Sometimes simplicity is the rule. It is the giving up of structure, moving to process, the giving up of foundations and the moving to the network.
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