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acrostic poem

i do not pray for peace
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
why then, must we see?
glass-blower of time
and breaketh bread no more
i am singing to you
white foam flower, red flame flower
lo! 'tis a gala night
through the broad earth's aching breast
in his guarded tent
wheel me down by the meadow
there was a strangeness on your lips
within my hand i hold

 



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