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Dec 2022
the impossible depth of solitude
with its amber tone
vitality  and some ambiguous  words
like the scent of a blooming field
in forgotten summers
and my wish to be his toy
in the machinery of dreams
he had canons of magic in his fingers
and a slippery mind
that went from one orbit to another
till the light was decoloured
devoured
into the music of
an agonizing time
or prayer
irinia
Written by
irinia  where East meets West
(where East meets West)   
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