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Monday, October 30, 2017

only a poem, maybe

nothing will save me

nothing has changed,
my love busy with herself,
a game she knows
and feeds, far out

within the protection
of her rules, a balloon
of pureness in her
journey from death to death

me better to be alone,
walk through the fog,
find food and scents
and colours to lead

out of sadness, a 
travel in beauty, in
a space beyond pain,
and always the sea

taking me out and out
as much as inside
with this limitless horizon
fusion of longing and freedom

and me, this finally too,
beyond the gate,
the slow release 
of self. 

now, now, i found
a present to send
to this fenced heart
where mine is 

and is and is
and out of bonds.
welcome fog, your 
grace and veils.


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