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Sep 2018
Polish your pails,
push on your pens,
began to paint your promising evenings,
pick out your underpants
Prepare for your sails for sea,

Gather your gaieties
and songs for a silent day,
take your time for sweet remedies,
prayers, and mantras without shame,
rather than toil with the shambles,
and pains of the day

Duty calls a silent whistle,
I can hear in mornings wind,
through the woe of every window,
blow a sweet heaven scent.
good mornings, good days, good nights
zen
Written by
zen  Utopia
(Utopia)   
301
     Pauper of Prose and Fawn
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