Tone and Resonance

The truth of surreality:
the breadth of life has seemed to truly hurt and purely baffle me:
assured of nothing sure as if the cure is loss without a casualty,
a turning frost accursed to gloss a firm shield to the malady unheard
in half the birth before It let to End and wagered Me to Now and This
to seem a lasting kiss when lips have parted long and ultimately,
never knew each other. and yet, each was the other all the same,
akin across the all enframed to spurn the flame astride the tinder
all as one, to leave in cinder smokeless, rising to demise, revised;
really, well reprising: bright is better nil. a torrid tempest sits
in stir, a boiling marklessness, an artlessness. Divine how the burn,
harm, disheartens, so pure to part the stark in things for how
the dark remarks the spark within a learning lark, with wings with
loaded arches yet to spring. to winds, it has to march, eyes to the
darkness, hark the notes it has to learn to sing to find the rising
rose is ringing quite the same, a harmony to say to, likeness, too,
believe You, all without a name. There is no you there to blame me.
Stemmed from the same tree, fled from the same seeds; all this is
off in the static, tuned to the live feed. Why don't we watch it
together? Lightless in havoc, heart full of majesty. That's all we
need for adventure and tragedy. Tonality in resonance, known through
new form of stature: lax, vexed, refracted locality, affably trekked.
The melodious fallacy, fractally honing a doubt to espout to the
tapestry. Memories left to a blasphemy: rhapsody heaven high touted.
This all: atone to form the only lantern left to lead the sightless,
a proof of reality.

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