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prose poetry

and my name is truthful
glass-blower of time
melancholy days have come
brother, i am fire
my soul is a dark ploughed field
take my bracelets
the dawn was apple-green
i have seen the proudest stars
god
so fallen
above them all, looking down
the poets tell
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
where shall i find you

 



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