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death poetry

but alas, just dreams
up and down he goes
their beautiful hair
brother, i am fire
through the broad earth's aching breast
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
why are the things that have no death
the air is like a butterfly
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
night is dark, and the winter winds
i reside at table mountain
with joy and wonder
a life on the ocean wave
to what shall a woman liken her beloved

 



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