Stars are bright on a sky so astral, Gleaming like the ice from the mists of night, My sorrow, after the broken glass, Sails the wind in purple twilight.

Rich rhapsody, the flame of my youth. Looking down the time between ourselves, There came the choir in the shape of truth, Wine and reason and reason and art.

Creative Coding | Poetry | .mp4 | 24 fps | 29s | 76.8 Mb