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In figments of ink
I colored the sky;
and parachutes, of cross dyed silk.
My harmless disposition,
mild as milk,
finds heaven, in only a sigh.
Angels with dark
and wayward smiles
guide me around the clouds;
hearing my prayers,
murmured aloud
imagining I'm without guile.
Nebula in stardust;
heaven's flame,
in cold space your fires will soon wane;
But in an angel's face
we'll see you again,
for paradise is one and the same.

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