a pastoral serenity that comes from watching the hovering day exhale from the sleepy hills. In the light that seems to exist within a morning mist, but is simply a thin haze that sighs upwards, held in such fragile stasis for merely moments. I want to find myself in such dewy seconds, when my feet are wet with the condensation night leaves as it's parting gift, a thousand diamonds lavished upon his sweet day.



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