Dear sky, you wall the blue book of pray, whiz out the view and you, the reflections of the oceanary mirrored dreams. Never thought you are the runaway jaunty that bounds all human suffocation, by streaming the rain, luring the air to be cheered by those cloudious birds and envious navy dark shades. You inhale and breath beyond the heath of God's given-curtain of heaven's Eden. You are the fin of the sun, the stage of the celestial moon, the theater of the day and night, and for certain are the hope of what you have held under your naked arms - me and the rest. For every moment and stories that you spell, I feel, I heed upon your wide chest and hex the words of gratitude through those unleash forte sight. With those fragrant of the white foam, your love are lynching on those fortress wings, you are undeniable the greatest invention of the Lord of all, which is fashioned with the passion seasons around all sphere… to the north and west, from the south over the east, I love you like always. For sometimes, you have dropped us the null vista and manic orbs between the hiatus of all mankind, with reason and sanction over the clover’s dead. You are rattling pluperfect with those immaculate panoramic smells of run. Over the times, you are the unalterable bluish lunette that engages the violet hornet and harlequin. There will be a day, I wish to lay my viscus on Coleridge’s dreamy imagination and Wordsworth’s living roses’ saga, that solely will enchanter and cardiac your splendiferous and bona fide of your deem faces in the picturesque blue soul. The bold sky I have named you, on those sheer shoreless masterpiece.
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