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death poetry

glass-blower of time
who is the runner in the skies
musing, between the sunset and the dark
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
out of me unworthy and unknown
uplifting, as the wind blew
have you not heard
were it not for that singular smell
bring me soft song
this is the ship of pearl
in halls of sleep you wandered by

 



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