So, sometimes, many times, and times in need, many things to most things, but not quite all things, begin to wish they were something sturdy and sound as if they were in a direction bound. They get up and take a step closer to a door that is an eternity away. Following, and then floating, often at times leading men astray, they tend to meander to the darkness of brilliant light, as if it were the only way. Insanity tinkers with brilliance, but not that of light. Watch the sky turn black as the atmosphere dissipates.
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