Friday, February 8, 2019

He Always Had It

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

I did not know there was a window,         I never knew you were the Sun.

So, Arise! Arise Fair Sun, Son... Kill the envious Moon.  It rattles and rambles within me,

Yes. It is sick.  Green and pale, dead, Death... It is envy.  I do not want to be filled with Envy

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