It does not matter the import

It does not matter the import. They say. Choked on self-love. Drunk from their impossible night. They want to shine like trees. For centuries, for centuries. Swallow the light from the rooftops. Their houses filling themselves, in that great night of their body. His body waiting. The night of the trembling is shaken. Their empty secrets are shaken. They pretend to be chests of precious jewels, rubies, diamonds.

Sense, then ex-isto as a hypo/thesis.