Wednesday morning as it alls stays, Aluben.
 Remaining as it is yet figure comes,
like a cow in it’s mill yet its novelty is yet to come.
With open hands we accept the virtual unreality as it grants it like a convey.
 Govern.
 As anticipated yet none to look forward, and when we walk over the flank, overjoyed by the presents of its sphere those who come. 
Fed-up of its loop, our senses feel what the eyes cannot see. A constant movement, time ticks and ticks yet those who come cherish upon its parity. Life alike is it not? bestowed those sentient