how the words come

Sometimes they parade like naked children perched on prancing ponies.
Sometimes they pour like honey from a golden cup in a godly hand.
Sometimes they charge in, armored and courageous with sword held high.
Sometimes they dart from the sky like lightning.
Sometimes they recline, beckoning lazily.
Sometimes they are so crowded they can’t be seen.
Sometimes all they can do is bark at the moon.
Sometimes they are carried slowly by servants.
Sometimes they are hammered out on a workbench.
Sometimes we can only watch them sail away.
Sometimes they are gifted to us by horned demons.
Sometimes we bear them forward like burdens.
Sometimes they are packed and ferried across dead rivers.
Sometimes we just watch them bud and grow.
Sometimes we must come to them.

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