Prose

Hallowed Silken Tallies (Stream of Consciousness)

Rallied calls echo the valleys and hint at the coming moon, of silent hallowed silken tallies and the dawning times to soon, drape and flowing as clouds hedge home to reckon a sunset dream and all the while a shining gown of tattered lace and seam, lift the flow of airing ferns and silhouettes of in-betweens. To precipice of oblivions that all rattle the sky lined trees and the eternal momentum songs of bridge and melody, seats both you and me. The sleek and silvered feathered rainbows, adorn the morning dews, their song of calling welcomes the morning and whispers farewells to the moon.

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