Far.
Ago.
Before we can remember.
Something said the first kind thing. Like 'Let there be
light.'
And 'Let that light find treasure.'
Back.
Before.
There were minds to remember.
Something old fought for good.
And something dark fought for pleasure.
And.
So.
Came the compliments. In dreams even God couldn't register.
His divided mind, praying and loving himself.
Giving only compliments on his one greatness.
Children loving and hating their beginning.
Trying to find their way back [To What?, Purity?]
And so we stayed here and played.
And prayed.
To no end.
Forever.
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