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fall poetry

i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
i love my hour of wind and light
sad are they who know not love
and still they walked on
i had over-prepared the event
this ancient silver bowl of mine
she said
the lightning flashed, and lifted
i burn no incense
above them all, looking down
high-born race
be not false
there is no flock, however watched and tended

 



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