A spark of light in a strange
Shape like the waves that surround the sight
range
A wounded collected echoes
Among the Sharp mountains
The wild star is the face
That reveals the mask buried in the chos
Like illusions or prophecies
Snatch a part of my mind
Gathered till eternity
For a moment or centuries
shimmering motions on the being
Said to be the slavery sea
Is it a pleasure to foresee?
Or the
