In lapis lazuli, a bauble, gift from me to me. See here - it glistens; moisture fills a part of it, and where the moisture lies the stars are mirrored (rippled murmurs, blunted). But there it glows, and set within the general haze spark many small intensities, spark beacons piercing through the drifting yellow cloud. There is a sick stillness, and many silences (eight million in this glowing speck alone that sprawls beside the sluggish waters of the Thames); the quiet is disturbing, but it speaks of aims fulfilled.
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