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Jun 2020
How will one's feet dance to the rhythms if the gongs have ceased to pump the veins?

Are the hues of the palette enough for a leonardeschi art to transcend?

When your mezzo-soprano fails to hit, will your story still get heard?

Will a cyclist still pedal to savor the orange horizons without his friends?

Who will listen when the wrinkled fingers lay on the dusty piano?

Do these words still tell of a poet who once penned in flames?
An Batingaw
Written by
An Batingaw  M/Bikol, Pilipinas
(M/Bikol, Pilipinas)   
     Fawn and MS Anjaan
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