Copy ImageOut here, the open night is my church, the trees are my congregation, the stars are my angels and the moon is the only god that I know
A.P. Sweet
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The moon makes love to the ocean and in this holy conception it gives birth to a little tide
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I want to towel off, leave my heart on this beach and walk the sand into a lake of stars, while never looking back
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I sense him smiling and laughing and looking at me with eyes of a thousand aborted children coming back to rightfully claim their life, to claim the earth
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I cry often. I cry and cleanse my face with my tears and swim to the center of it all. A center that I have written about a thousand times, forever etched into the porcelain
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