Commissioners
Nigh fusions are a happenance
I prefer the stalks shadows of the day
Infinity has a way of peering
tomorrows living for a thrill
Who light the leitmotif
and bonfire my words
Or should I search for an island
to gaze at a cave?
Wherewithals all lustre
scratch holes in my words
A house without a dream
ran naked through the plains
Romeo is lost
Juliet leans closer
Spinoza doffs another theorem
Nature plays trumps
commissions bleed into tweed
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