The restless soul
Not in league with
Power
Suffers
Suffers exponentially
The twilight waters
They dance
As the wind
Makes them
Puppets of wind
Yet
In their twilight
Eyes
There's
Beauty of redemption.
My figure
Fades
Fades
And you
My Monsignor
Don't recognize it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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