Cometh the hour come the the man, From far away - stays for a day, It's all Greek not Canadian to me, Our heart always transcends us, Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace like a clock during a thunderstorm
Possible, that the below may have been created by sonmicloud, down in the vaults one dark, weary night. The truth of the matter may depend upon its reception here, in this airless place filled with script that she seems to favour, for clear perceptions of her other receptions twud seem.
If it is badly received then I am clearly mistaken, and it was actually some scapegrace of a trinket bearer who threw it together. – The Cloud.