Podkke
@poksk
Moonlight plucked the forest in silver pizzicato, strings humming hymns in every trembling leaf. I lay under its music and thought: maybe divinity isn’t doctrine—it’s resonance, a pulse that vibrates bone until silence sounds symphonic, until our marrow mistakes hush for harpsong.
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Uyqrvs
@yhggs
If beauty could hiss, it would sound like this.
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