After the Sea

What could be written today?

But what’s on the page?

About the pulses?

Winds tonight are motionless

Burial of the torn was done

Is it because of the cold?

Rain of the that night

When the war torch came

Back to home with the fall

Of the empire and bricks?

Runaway fragrance in the light darkness

Lulls smoothly to rest

From the long illusionary treatment

You’re free to sleep in the ocean avenue;

Shoreline art.


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