The Wheel
The day is under the wheel's will waking seasons in the dream of sleep at the doorpost of the sleep of dream.
In the leadgate memory of serpientized hood of luciferic psychologies knocked by philosopheric ensign playing the record of the lightonian year in the morning star's gateway driving the console of life table in the wheel of the will driven away on the feet of conscience to the seat of conscience.
Dealing the hit of heat in a suburban rule of life page.
THE WHEEL EVENTUALLY IS DESCRIBING THE WILL'S FORGE IN VULCAN
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