The Impression of the Moon,
the earth a friend in mind,
a particular life in burning flame,
the soothe of the bottle-necked life.
Cruising amongst Pages Time,
'the Continue' is a State in placed,
a quiet storm erased,
doom embraced.
(without a) A human Pace,
the Finish in a start.
Why does the Ocean roar,
the sound,
the Crash,
the littered Trash.
Shorelines in a Cosmic Sky,
will this Earth in Plight just die?
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