Cool in the morning, touching, and the reach takes love to face. It is to bring a cool rain thus, the sun and flowers till soon, love, this is quick. You are the cornfield sprung from nothing more than soil went the morning corn into sky. Leaping trees join blue sky finally. This love is caring in the face, and touch of night when we sleep and sleep. Rhythm makes the sky and all its clouds and clearing. Rain is wonderful, sun is meaningful, day and night combine. Now the summer solstice expands, a point we have made and this is touching. Lightly the bed is made for our time. The things we create clear with music. Our love is a definite day.
The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
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