Two dreams collide past the poison arrows of yesterday. . . Rancid yesterday flows like best-forgotten music to my ears. When the hills dream I'm drowning but not today. In this place is in-between, is mystery, is hope and all good things. Hold me here, keep me close and near by some sweet strength beyond me, beyond you, beyond us all, past this place of curiosity to a greater call, a greater brand of word; a call, a vow.
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