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Sunday, November 29, 2015

poem , happened


the wings of these
wild swans flapping
the air, they came
out of me just to go

they fly all alone
in a flock, far out,
and i want to follow
but must stay inside

in me with the memory
of white fluff and feathers,
a travel in silence
where i live without echo

i miss your eyes, a mirror
in which i found
the distant passion of clouds
and secret springs

where hungry trouts move,
willows dance to wind,
flowers blossom into space
and a child walks out

to turn each stone 
in the fields of life
staring at the other side
and then into the sky

where we cannot meet
nor stay together
as we are too heavy.
and the earth moves.




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