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footprint poem

roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
une lueur d'or dans le gloom et le gris
indéfiniment
j'ai su le silence des étoiles et de la mer
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
en tant qu'elle
la noblesse de la mort encore

 



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