The partaking. The imitation. The initiation. The lure. Allure. Ebony. Ivory. Ivory. Ebony. And finally, allure. The lure. The initiation. The imitation. The partaking. A yellow beam and a solar flare later, it was. Nothing, therefore grapes in the kings’ mouth. Moths of fluttering descent made entry and exit simultaneously. They did partake and the cloth was robed. Dripping in eloquent skin, the trapped robe was all red. Red with hues of malevolent decadence, the Earth shook. Layer by layer and minute by minute. All the while; they were waiting for the library to open. Was that the assembly of and by GOD? No, yet, rationally close. Yes. Bouncing back and forth; a chamber of wilted persimmons had been lost and found…like the book in your hand. Read on: layer by layer and minute and minute.
