None have in this way found
What otherwise construe as chaos
The tempestuous undulate that can
Only thinly disguise as coherency
Grant solace in that wish given
Herein 364 devotions writ
In breaths and in storms
Across the sphere, upon the very air
Is art
The visage that sears memorial
E'en tho one calendar has elasped
When many have passed in agonies
The tempo of it triple time
Fleet foretell in the trill canopy
The mind's cacophony
Spare naught that it should be embued
Why cannot let it loose from me
That I fall to break from thee
And 364 from this continue 'gain
To prove what true?
No mimicry in one to another employ
Honesty
Reason
Truth
What are those things this day?
What were they but fancies thrown away?
What were they to me but to simple breathe.
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