Tender flakes of frozen cotton
Permeate the darkness of the night
Like seeds seeking that fertile ground,
And mortals the eternal flame.
There is no chance to rewrite the stars,
Life pours in arithmetic proportions
A wise fusion of honey and ice,
Inclusive for each of its streams.
This foam latex is leaking over
Doves, graves and blazing souls,
Pliant, fragile, continuous and awake,
Releasing everywhere
The enzymes of Love!
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