THESE ELEMENTS HERE Like water you seek the lower steppe and upon arrival strain under the sun wishing now to fly. Like a cool breeze you part the seas and bring with you the rain. Your gentle gust and mighty gale rattling stone and shattering shale. And like a burning flame you light the night— your brief brilliance a momentary marvel. But here, in the loam, you curl up and hide, ignorning the world beyond your black cocoon, forced to surface by chance and circumstance— groʊθ: a necessary danger if one desires to bloom.
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