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So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.


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Zanzibar's Reading Room


Celestial Wandering
by:

Lyra the harp, its spindly star-spun chords resting to the right of the spiny dragon. Silent?

I can hear it.
Scintillating sounds of celestial summer. It is warm but I am shivering.

You can hear it too, if you are listening.

Only in death does the sky stop singing.

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