Are all nights those surprised us are the strange?
Are all ways those we digging are no things more than illusions and worms nestle in the wound?
Are all treasures of-pearl and ruby of heart... of the brazier's essence of the spirit?
Not more than the stones lying on the path of from falling? ?
...
Sometimes I extend to some steps towards your spring
As a morning breeze on the balconies
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Grandson
When he learn the earlier words
Step earlier steps….. stumble
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Written in the seed slate… you will splits in to two
written in each two... the end of the story
Written in the slate seventh, eighth and ninth
To the last Slate of the world, that, the end of every matter
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Your wars
Abdel Aziz Alhaider
When I found you thrown upon the seat..
...