If it were make believe that water can make memories.
Then I am one to travel to places through which waterfalls are created.
Like the birth of my baptism from whereall my memories followed.
They flow from a holy trail of thoughts and words upon words where my world would be shaped.
And for some strange reason...
nothing appeared to me other than salvation.
What am I accused of in this dark
sanctuary.
Me in my parish.
Where I can feel how the sun takes me home.
The dilation of the mind and its struggle.
The science of purging dreams.
How music fills your heart and soul...
Tears upon tears fueling memories.
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