to can connect with such ease,
sweetest language must please;
it’s our good-given right to soar
for the things we love and adore.

traffic is welcomed here, so up high;
the more, then, together, hearts so vie—
like blood rushing red to meet its maker,
sweet lips pronounce the keys to our pleasure:

access to the unconscious is granted (in threes),
each once having been planted (like trees);
the thought, the word and so, the-then-pattern,

mark: a mind, men and so, then, the pattern;
good nature thrives with such good manners
as proof we’ve no need but want for planners.

and execution, it knows no precautions;
the excellence of winds is all directions;
a code protects every good and the bad,
through what we have and haven’t had—

so purity, being akin to originality,
open up like a bright singularity:
allowing both entry and so, revival,
it being the (he)art’s soul-survival.

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