Come read me here.
I carry generations of memories and mementoes
the unmade bed which once remained futile
I call myself by names like “Spring” “Autumn” “Rain”
the Earth : precisely.
together in my compromise,
lights on a cave wall
often a soil that is way too parched,
I walk here,
on the barren land of lonesome despair
knitting a quiet dream of my irrevocable silence,
The air never sits on my lap,
it touches my throat and sinks vehemently
as if I am the injured summer
With me, the garden creaks of rain,
with laughter and daughters
and so I carry promises of diluted hope
I am the Earth,
no sap and no color,
a nameless child of an unforgettable father.
let love be the light
let the air be printed by the leaf shadow
and I shall sniff the appearance
pouring light into the void
fifty feet into the air.
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