We are compelled to
praise you limitlessly
for all the beauties
you scattered across
those lines and forms
which make us circle
and wonder what are
we doing in all this?
Nothing but not-being!
Aimless and insane,
generously one with
some Grace; ink spills,
letters and pen bow …
And the soul torn open:
this was the caress
I had longed for.
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