S.A.S.E

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There is a letter from a world,

that was,were, and as yet would have become. . .

the now of ever lasting hour that has come from another.

Sweet sweet bitter poetic slumber,

Your world is not mine,

it was told and foretold by great olde Poesie’s;

The hour is near as I come here in place where my mind has gone by,

knowingly I am a traveler from and to,

the world of love life that we behold,

yet to be written and to be told.

Oh lo ghi v2.004

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So it seems every mistake is nothing but blessings,

it seems every time i fall I am actually flying on the rebound,

but how many times must it be so to speak,

yet Yes,

I am consistent on this.