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Celtic Radio and the Fourth Dimension

apocalupsis

apocalupsis


Though the world keeps turning fast as a whip My heart slackens and wobbles; Blood trickles and sifts Tsunami recoils Quickening pulse To snap her fist. Narcissus Retiring not skulking away, at last retreat From the feathery grasses silkily sliding in aquafingers’ grasp.

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In Him we live, move and have our being. Acts 17:28