I think the stars are numbers and the numbers are stars, and that the sky above is another globe’s below. I feel the vibrations of thunder’s subtle-rumble animate tiny textures, like salted lectures, to an audience of sea-sand ticked toes. I see a world with woes about fake votes, by those who defend at end the ones they chose, and have faith in news that speaks-not in truth’s tone. All things earthly full of wonder, with exception of the trivial pursuit of the man’s grand plan.
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