Parading

The animals are leaving

the half-illumination

After joy raises you into the stratosphere,

call it a flood, what it is to be

And though the jeweled

with all our bones knocking, we go,

So, just recently, when I found myself on the brink of the final

I believe that I am being kept in want. Who

Weary fears, the

Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth