Easter 3 - Poem by Liza Sud
I adore you, the nights of Easter.
At them like every branch is burned
Writong of all my sins is missed now.
And the scroll to the shreds is torn.
And so sorry for every grass blade
I would like to press head to it -
Earth seems boundless, time seems endless,
Full of meaning is every wink.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You