i have no name

when heart is lost the home strays gone. wandering the moors, the gray-skies, heathers and streams leading somewheres... they may lead home. but. the stars. they stray, too. their courses blanketed by clouds and the wind hushes gently leaving the wanderer penniless save for the heart and the chance of the somewhere stream.

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treasure the epiphanies in marvelous wonders of miniscule and infinite proportions

mistified the hollow wears a cloak of soft fabric a velvet veil of stardust settled hovering amidst earthly form hush a whisper carries brilliantly through the fog time is here we are now we have begu

shaded greens whisper gradually tongues of silhouetted daylight crouch like gossiping maids and cronies beneath the gentle foliage i bend to test the smell of earth dewy, musty, fertile crops of moss