Swans are stately, graceful, and sizable avian targets for rocks tossed by children of all ages. They are mystical birds that mate forever and are especially adapted to being chased by dogs. You probably know that implications are everywhere, even when the world is small. We cannot help being a part and apart, while you watch the weighty swan whiteness gliding on the water. Swans rank as the fastest of waterfowl both on water and in the air. Swans make good symbols. Real swan has a place. As a reader predictably reading this you may see symbols in many lights. Sometimes a swan is just a cigar, and the cigar is just that faraway look. A swan as all Swan remains in the sky, on the water, even walking upon the planetary range. You can see this, you can see this. The death of stars means nothing in the cool breeze of today's morning. Nothing is a swan.
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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