Surety, Hadn’t we given up on sure-ity? And what we Knew, we really know now, forever. Wasn’t it hilarious to write this wrong, Can we make a rule right?   We Stood in the mix, this, Big Mix, post-Bang. This swirling romance, a community danger theater dance. So How is it that we are not fearful of our underlings, those back sliders and stabbers, the smaller the sneakier. Should we not look upon them with pity and so be thankful for our own winnings?  Little prickly problems seep insidiously through the pores of your skin. Why would they deride, plot to connive? We must unlearn our ticks. With tantrics? I know now we unknowingly wield the Great Unknown.  There is more to be known than the way we’ve felt. Thanks to Something. Thank you to Who Knows? ‘T ‘aint easy to unwind your heart’s mind, and erstwhile listen to the tune, to evocate the crude, impossibly rude unforseen manifestation.


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