The humans panic When suddenly shaped by the beautiful storm And the fields of gauze A memory of a shave or some paintings Or a walk through the poor district To the eternity of an eyelash Could you write a secret In three words only Watching the rain move in green From the north across a grid that does not exist I did not mind getting lost with you The whales of the Atlantic were grateful To have us whole and dreaming of them The earth is ready to be done With the last century It seems the land knows little of itself Erased by wind and water But the new hour spins and the mind Wants to know the voice That held it all this time And why it has remained.
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