Blinding


I bring you flowers made from the effortless past of time.
We are bathed in gold, soaked in infinite amounts of glory.
Heaven cannot compare to this sight, this ocean
Which we look upon flows and flows like an eternal dream.
The waves crash like children falling down from trees.
White is the sky, simplicity written in your lips.
You move like poetry, slippery and damp,
And speak like the pure-minded baby which you are.

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