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I am thankfully  fortunate  
Though i owe thou.  
A sober kiss thou deserve
Though Methinks its impossible,
Thy presence intoxicates me
I am thankful

I am happily thankful  
Thy touch
Grants  angels hands shame
Thy aroma
Fives air its freshness
I am  fortunate  

I am somber
I am misplaced from thy presence
I am regretful
I canst not until beam
Yet,
I am  fortunate
                                                                       That i wot thou
No sir, no not me
Come no closer, can’t you see?
I’m freezing as the springtime frost
So won’t you let me be?
Wind tossed as the blossom
Bleeding from the tree
I am but a child; I’m lost
I am wild, not dutiful
Scarred inside; not beautiful
My demon lover  left me
Underneath the cherry tree
No sir, no not me

No sir, no not me
Come no closer, can’t you see?
I am not a fresh faced maid
No sir, we can’t be
Plucking cherries in the glade
Walking in the evening shade
I’m buried in the foetid earth
Awaiting spring, denied rebirth
In the soft sun, in the rain
I shall never rise again
No-one can ever set me free
No sir, no not me
for each seed growing in a strong tree,
half a million other seeds will bite the dust,
except that
to taste the dust they must believe in the power of usefulness,

- unable to think that they will never germinate
they let themselves be carried away by exotic dreams:
dreaming of being nibbled by sparrows,
washed by rain, smelled of sprinting squirrels,
beaten by hot-cold winds, swaying in foamy waves,
touched by a second chance,
than rotten in the mud under a tree, (be it and strong)

- in other words
who cares about a vigorous tree,
when you are a survival  arch/canopy,
arched up to the white canvases.
excess rusted broken  shackles
free from ancient gyves
tongues in dungeons no more
a present prisoner of forefather's  measures

ears drum no more
notes fall through the cracks
remodeling skips yet another age
future slavers of our descendants

emancipated you stand
a guests to a freeman's  world
you are no more
return us to the future
free from the present past.

                                   In mirrored minds we remain.
Once through we passed
How young we were
At old the tunnel swallowed us
Weep not for us

Once again we shall pass
How young we are
At old the tunnel will swallow us
As birth did  before
Weep not for us

Endlessly life cycles
Butterfly from Caterpillar  
Caterpillar  from womb
Weep not for us

Thundering claps and steps
Roaring screams of joy
once again welcomes us
To a world anew
Rejoice for us
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