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lyric poem

just as my fingers on these keys
all down the years
braided and woven
mysterious night
i think it just splendid
wrap the earth in cloudy weather
i have heard that a certain princess
stuff of the moon
some of the hurts you have cured
risen from the dead
glass-blower of time
out of the deep and the dark
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb

 



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