The hunter prances
under a crescent moon
quivers in tow while
further down the road
in the real gone world
guitar gods are mere mortals
playing something like
cause we've ended as lovers
in perfect three-part harmony
when all is said and done
the bells ring for everyone
under the sun subatomic
particles are all there is
the stuff of life across
the expansive universe
with many mansions
to rest our weary
hearts and minds from
these random thoughts
of constellations
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