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Send my Seed and Harness my Ego

Blameless in the face of law, history attempts powerless might. As the leaders in brutality cling to their original mark. Willing only one thing in thy heart as truth; to be wrong is to sign the grave. Be it applauded-- for here beats new existence and her leftovers, before trailing right for humanity.

We default, so war can omit near impossible landscapes as explosions too offer celestial accommodation-- wakefully curing the ideals as we find only a barb with new edges. To forego the procession would only neglect the most appropriate slumber- for consciousness is inclined and always arriving...

Choice beholden to experience, whom begs us to dance with survival and lead in discovery. We cannot divide the regressions, but rely instead on mutation.  For to evolve beyond the most present and sharpened conscience, expect poignantly divine actuation. Although arrested in her wake! For how distinct to us, the most agape and presiding spaces where we find man glancing through the wild and toking the ember.

Observation in a presumption only becomes more certain. So too must we afford the upward spiral to the gravity heaving beneath us.  Should we not argue on reign with the ethos and toil only with the most navigated of each wave and spectra? Keeping a complete algorithm on time only to grasp the fabric at its most dissymetric, and play with remaining diligence and her outward affluence.

Science knows.



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