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The stilted sides of skyscrapers reflect ominous waves as they roll in through the heat. A continent of clouds purchasing light and prayer.
Who commands the heavens?
The thirst of summer makes beggars of the fields as we watch those skies expectantly.
Sad prophets projecting spirits to surf the clouds. Our hopes resting while hearts race to the rhythm of thunder in the distance. Can This Be?
Will the heavens reply or are we just
Rolling The Sky?
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