please make me still
not god nor me
but your
grace and softness
i try so hard
to be silent
but i cannot be
i longed for you
the sweet apples
of our autumn
they are rotting
under the trees
intoxicating scent
of maturation
and death
we could pick too few
and now
blood and wine
saturate the earth
why did we fear
to enjoy them
in our time
wasting sleep
and all desire?
please make me still
i cannot give more
than i did
and all the roses
but i cannot
take away all thorns
nor death
we live only now
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