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Comments about Logan Withers
An Abstract Delusion
I lie here, betwixt myself and an enigmatic phantasm,
Half-dreaming of a world where the fresh morning dew rests upon the earth like the somber remains of a vestigial forest,
Colors splash across the sky like paint on nature’s canvas, the sun, luminous in its bounds ensnares existence,
Light becomes nothing, nothing becomes purity, purity becomes contentment.