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poem for pastors

take my bracelets
softly now the light of day
skies they were ashen and sober
rocked in the cradle of the deep
among the mountains i wandered
when i go back to earth
could we but know
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
but alas, just dreams
beneath my window in a city street
now while my lips are living
brother, i am fire
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
i loathed you

 



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