The past and the wisdom are peregrine fogs.
Loneliness and its filaments exile me.
I mold you in sober chants
while
mistress death strolls around me.
I’ll give you in heritage gold coins,
inmortality robes
and phares of
my lyric clumsiness filled trunks.
Thus you’ll remember how much I’ve loved you
in the
flesh and in spirituality.
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