The cosmos speak,
the cosmos speak
and under my lost breath they sing.
A martyr in the shadows who holds a secret beneath his wing
acts a stingy pest as well.
A human figure dancing
aimlessly below the falling waters of a river,
who calls and jests and rocks the notes from left to right
--he sings as well.
A star so distant,
so perfectly essence'd,
a danger he himself hold;
the caution sky takes when creeping in circumlocution about his tips,
pointing tips about the shining color.
Do you see their similar? ...their satirical matter?
A courtroom of folly tantrums who laugh when shining color is unpoised.
A ranch fitting a verse of one,
too big to expand,
filled with cosmos future telling...
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