Grey naturally arises in collaborative disdain and coloring. The frantic pace of bold coloration inundates transition. Grey reprints intending. You will have time for frolic later. Perhaps trees will turn colours at some peaking time. The spectrum opens for you, but it starts with grey, like you did. Your blending could enlarge for, perhaps, the hastening of dawn. Personal question. Grey tears open, as it happens. A day bears the looseness of spending. Shadows exist possibly. Dawn at the pace of day makes grey available. If you would only listen, cardinal in a tree.
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.
Comments