WINE AND GATES

Let It Be Known, Moments Of Harmony Grown...

Genus toward
Fixated among the rain
A lip we saw convene, the imagination forward
That has the coming conviction, to see pride plain

A living worth, has many more fames when same
Threshold and justice, the coping and the dote
Pouting in the comfort of a rain-soaked window
Saving a place for misery, when the shames of the world, hope?

Passion is a mixed feeling, full of signs and paramours of quiet times
Made to order, and find the fate of guidance
Made from spoken heed, the count and the courting of when, suggestion chimes
In, the callous of significance, the powers that complete the stare of a lands

Quaint, but no song?
The irony of forces never seen, accept in the language of romance
That has become our only hope, for privilege to assess, the ostracization of a haunt
That notice is never more than us, in the cares of might, we come in our own defense?

Doors and windows, that admire you...
And the floor of particularity, that has stolen a name from the peek
And somewhere the focus of an eye, on the calling from heaven, to excuse
The risen gift of yet to be named, rainbows and the very idea of causes we made, for homes need
 


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Let It Be Known, Moments Of Harmony Grown...

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