In its rumbling overtures,
Luc
the thunderstorm rhymes with my love.
Even in its fiery disquiet,
there is promise of deliverance;
Yet at its heart,
it’s alive with madness.
In its rumbling overtures,
Luc
the thunderstorm rhymes with my love.
Even in its fiery disquiet,
there is promise of deliverance;
Yet at its heart,
it’s alive with madness.
I own nothing.
Not even myself. We are all borrowed sets of particles that have existed in the universe since always, to infinity.
