we are all tiny stalks
yellow grey
making up a sea of mindlessness
waves rustle... make a song:
"we belong, we belong"
blown into those background winds
nothing but background
dried husks, unnoticed,
the feul for some future fire
giants come with an invisable press
they step step step
and press us flat...
and we shrugg in the eastern winds as if such things were normal
rockerfeller rich folk
morgan-stanely
lumina alumanti
their movements make the hills and mounds that we call dreams and obstacles
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