It begins with a weird, warped, front to back invention.
Off-kilter, stark, love? A call to arms, eventually.
The venture begins with a touch of magic in worrying times.
Machines spin in a dark factory. Untangling, disassembling.
A pause, for a brief moment only.
Muses, thoughts echo; a contemplation. Voices listen, then reply.
Glittering, a complex, turning less dense but not a moment's peace.
Dozing beneath the shade of palms.
Spiralling, calyptic, hypnotic, metronomic, then something else.
Xylophonic, patterns, a knife through it all.
Digging underground, earth, a vein of hidden gold.
Resurfacing again;
Now to the skies, soaring high, clouds and birds surround.
Settling down now, a lullaby, time for sleep. Godnat.
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