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String,
A
thing
A
Song
From
The
Past it sing

What joy it could bring

If?

There was
one
change

Stop
that
December shot

so mean!
We lost
# 9 Dream.
The art of solitude
is measured in eternity
Writing graffiti
and finger painting walls
The desert is a place of contemplation
weaving baskets.. to be sold in the market
and talking civilly to flies and scorpions
jabbering tongues are twenty four seven rolling news
and greedy ears never hear enough
minds search for entertainment in carnage
and compassion becomes a blunted capacity
The purity of the Sun is easy to see
- she keeps all alive
and one day she will die
taking all with her
and it will be night
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