SundayII June

Worldly yardsticks are the up or down of the ridiculously relative.
The fussy yang of a constant content.
Art makes artists of us all.
No pomp or fuss.
Brings the senses to themselves, returns them to an ideal form.
No coin or chart can serve to measure making mystery matter.
Making the momentary material.
Capturing sense in nonsense.
Not life or death. Not the be all and end all but still vital.
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