A few words in the landscape, planting familiarity. Iffy franchise correlating water in freshets with flawed bounty. Sometimes the engagement falters. If not feathered with fishes, the stream may perchance effect under-radicalized situational landscape. A beaver might start something with earnest application. Progress heralds lack of progress by simple elongation of watery raiment. This stream can be recognized as a rivulet of spent snow or some equal upheaval in short time. A stream could just bolster the time you put your foot in, deep as exciting. Or mud reproves the docile days. Where do you stand when you seem to be standing? Fair resonance in time for the word of ever. In your time, that is, as the reminder comes to you. The stream in its station passes you by.
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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