With every falling leaf a whisper
Reminding I of an aura cleansed
By mystic winds born from seas beyond
The eyes reach
I can feel tickles of nature
Giggling through shy blue skies
Promises like clouds sailing
Toward a wet orgasmic destiny
A place to be home for the meek
Stained by ink
I can smell the resurrection of scrolls
Like walking words taking shape
Painting the cosmos with
But a million colors invisible
To mans eye
The beholder with gratitude
Smiles once again
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