Grace is self-effacing
It turns away
Steels, braces at embrace
Loathing haste
Loathing the vulgarity of wasteful lust
When with wastrel gaze one may strain faraway at radiance
And be yet bathed in light’s amazing gifts; the bright writing
Which delights all lovers, plots the flights of paradise-blooded birds
With wondrous dye-flooded pinions, inscribes fizzing leys upon the turf.
Alchemisland 
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