Windsong Fountain Rain

Bliss ever bliss thy be done will be said and undersung.
Words make no sound and form no illusion, never taught.
What gives; takes not β€” unless sought?

Make sense yet no sensation to arrive.

1.6 times 10 to the -35

Overfound rivers wise. Nothing amidst in tree of lies. Haha!
You get me right? I speak of us! I see with no apprise.
I see with winds of tender demise!


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