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May 2017
It is neither a paper
rolled up and
tied with golden string
nor an inscription at the bottom

Instead it is a voice
that whispers
a melody
a sweet voice coming out a
bitter bottle

the disembodied
voice is meaningless
it goes on and on
without meaning

Alas! It clears
Then I realized the truth,
the message, I
have already sought within.
Written by
Bolbi Stroganovsky  Ph
(Ph)   
378
 
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