-------Creation-------
Flowers fall
from the lips of a dream
and the whole World
stops.
We have no say
at Night,
just a hill
to sit quietly upon
and watch grow the seeds
we have planted.
Faces change
but the morals of their presence forever repeat.
In that moment
of Truth,
between Sun's set
and its rising again,
free from the limits
of our own distraction,
flowers
fall
from the lips of a dream
onto ours.
-------
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