Monday, September 29, 2025

That Which Flows from Me

 There is a painting that arises as the sun goes down and the sky shuns the realities of light that is love amused.  I am that light, but also the setting of the sun in repose.  I now wonder things that are lost to the blooms of all that is not me.  I will continue to be and to see all that is a Russian ruses of chi.  Please join the room of flat jokes over the sea and leave this damped artist to the no longer happy sea.

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