When beginning returned from the end of beginning, a memory insisted. The insides of drums proved true. An initial had been reformed. Crows flew across the sky. Each tree in the vibration replaced a cause for holes. Otters swam to their own ends, placidly proof swimming. Semi-true beings rewarded cognizance in a pure sort of upbeat. Corn grew to the far side of shade. People decided to churn. This is when beginning got older, like changing your name. The deities had a point, soft as trillium and orchid. A likely planet, then, wandering in the dream of dreamed up provocateurs, cushions, and fresh green grass. Parley this vista among the unknown. Plan to survive yesterday.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
Comments