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christian poetry

quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
si perdu
j'ai vu les nuages parmi les collines
un oiseau a chanté
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
pour ces bras blancs au sujet de mon cou
le mystère le plus foncé et le plus étrange
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main

 



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