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sleep, gray brother of death
i go my way complacently
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
if i should die, think only this of me
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
i cannot always feel his greatness
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
give me hunger
calm as that second summer
i burn no incense
some of the hurts you have cured

 



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