…so sin…

the moon might state otherwise of your life and efforts…the daily – the twirls and eddies of your surface, though concisely unique and wet with promise, cannot hide the dry facts of fate…that you are average in every way including the way you hope.

at the beginning of your time the sun might have agreed, and the king of light did bath you in the star streams of his blood, and you did walk from no where into the great and present here, but only to be forgetful of what has past or the true meaning of your name.

an old woman can be sought through the peril of your mistakes, and when found at the bottom of a hill, will tell you that beliefs are questionable and mythological: that purity should it exist, is nothing without the dirt of effort – that sin comes only to those who try.


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