Can’t you see the filature in naps?
Currents of thoughts,
or threaded cryings in priestly steps,
sighing out the window when we’re alone,
at no one in particular,
integrating every religious awe
and maintaining purity.
Can’t you see the filature in naps?
Currents of thoughts,
or threaded cryings in priestly steps,
sighing out the window when we’re alone,
at no one in particular,
integrating every religious awe
and maintaining purity.