Any or all feelings
Thoughts pulsates energy.
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Gone past the broken winds, the silent woods yet to sing, the water glides her feathery wings and I try to move with my ivory limbs.
Where the far-fetched views tend to begin, where the meadows turn golden, where the succession is nativity and where the origin is the horizon. I tend to leap while falling and stand while sinking, such was the beauty of the place.