Always dear to me that outcrop and its hedgerow, which anchor the whole sky to the horizon. I sit reflecting on these endless spaces, that far-flung silence, its distance, and beyond. That superhuman stillness, and deep quiet, and for a fleeting moment I am unafraid. So as the wind then rustles through the verdure I cannot help myself but to reflect; on seasons change, the fading and the current, with sounds of nature creaking in its wake. And watch among infinities the sinking, in oceans sweet, the shipwreck of my life.
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