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■ The oak
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| As you’re awaiting me I listen to the silence of your waiting, A melody without echo, Within the missing of a feeling, Like a spell without a cure, And a poem without a poet, Without any sign of a conscience, They’re following me, The fragments of a face I know too well, A cut Through the bars of a prison, Beyond the sky’s shadows Dangling Abstract shapes Of clouds Falling down on my lips, Stealing away my words, Breathing through my breath, The child of the child That never was And never will be, The wave of the wave, Of each and every one of our mother sea’s Making a sacred bound with the Tear… Better then you, knows me It’s bitter taste, The dead nature, Out of the gulf’s inferno, The light is my awakening And the secret lover of the dark, Your breath Knows me And as well the space That’s crying out The distance between us… It’s true Even he Knows me better then you!
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