With the way things are going,
there won’t be time to get
around to putting our hands
on things we’re craving,

tactile forces we’ll never
explore. At least not until
a later season, where there’s
harmony in the Four Winds,

moon waning a little slower
than she’s used to… Can you
imagine all the golden waves
out of lapping motion, rustling

against each other, no care
for rhythms, only how big crashes can
be, how massive they can make
themselves, regardless of harm.


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