You forgot to tell me who I was, comes a whisper "beneath" the stars... Perhaps stars are reflections of previous suns, previous truths bestowed to us in the constant flux, it is ever-so-slightly changing, this purposed task of revelation in an ever-changing existence. (Not fast enough.) I beg to differ, not grovel, but pray you tell me, what is fast enough? Rather vague. (I hate you.) You'll get over it soon enough.

© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.


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