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life poetry

they in the darkness gather and ask
he speaks not well
earth travails
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
we lay
white foam flower, red flame flower
if i were very sure
good woman
daughter, thou art come to die
to be able to see every side of every question
i make my shroud, but no one knows
have you seen walking through the village
made up of loveliness alone
my sorrow, when she's here with me

 



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