In distance is gladness to be ---
as time walks from our birth ;
unto deaths door neither see
whence it opens or closes
was you beyond, I behind :
Slain were we both, buried
As a cooperation without reply
was arts lost, were we both :
Initiative is a child in infancy,
as a lump is it torn, ripped apart
by the lack of appreciation.
Hands, outstretched, fingers ---
in its lines, wrinkles is writ ;
thoughts in veins inscribed
poetry of living as it lingers.
art is in grasps firmness.
By constraint of intellect,
Bursts of emotions into a tomb
did we rise together then.
As waves of orgasms upon
the sands of eternity was I'n'I
the grains in the oceans.
By laughter, tears and toils ---
as grammaticus confucious ;
to fill it with doubt and wonder
for in soil grew to be conscious
until shook - trust ye now.
There we stood outside
With a dead child in our arms,
returned to no-existence,
as nobody else cared of it
than the three of us, wrapped
in the remnant bandages
As a slight bow of respect ---
even for insults or wrath :
were letters tall, straight out
neither friend, foes wreath
was by wrists made hearth.
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