Prince Harry Bombshell

 Officer could, in the failure of light—inner rustle. Alphabet learned from some aimless rock. It seems to fulfill elliptical in its path, but only guesses surmount. We looked over the horizon, beyond the most eyeball, and thought so, truly. And monumental extending of the work placed just so, tagged forever. It could not hold a name but was larger than smaller, possibly the extent of possible. We began to see the length of alphabet, thinking how we collect together. Language amounts to ratiocination. Can almost talk or place that alphabet to good use and reflection of sound noise thru spacious earnest citadels and town borders, closed wayfarers and sinking feeling. Thinking about unhappiness all the time, just for the pleasure in crude maximums and minimums, and coupled to a boundlessness that ekes forever in the smallest kindness. Age makes a spur, and settles all until. Forget you bombast, the least of the beat formally continues.