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All clouds are only water and air Beyond my mind, I am blank Circling thoughts are mere casualties Dust fills my lungs and dances Everlasting ideas create a gentle emptiness
About half past noon, Before I Climbed through that Door of your's, Events beyond our control Forced their way through Gateways to other Homelands.   I sat, Just waiting,
Amazingly, pretentious artists actually exist Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Consciously barring any form of creativity Defies the very essence of art.
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