Hind

Punctuated instance of roughness felt like stubble upon a freshly shaved face

Gathering no motion in the resistance of the traveller a hillock rises upon the motion

Soft but ever patience is the cape of pleasure that travels over the hill to a new foundation

Dug but over the field a tightness of a flickering light

Stolen kiss, thief of presence by the ancient giants under the sun rays

A electric pulse, a sun sets, withdrawn animation

We wryly wake in new fields of green
It’s us again

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