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poem for pastors

be not false
in and of itself
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
for then without
rocked in the cradle of the deep
the saddest of the year
love me at last, or if you will not
let me be sad
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
if it
when i go back to earth
what shall we do now
the earth keeps some vibration going

 



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