6 july 2018
Making Overtures
Night.
A scantily clad sky,
with unkempt clouds.
Moon was climbing.
Caved in.
I had nothing left
to say, except
soundless poems.
No regrets;
in this climactic
struggle of life. The
pain eases, when
memory fails.
The flesh engages the
spirit. End would wait
till the grass banks.
31 july 2025
wiesiek
31 july 2025
absynt
31 july 2025
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31 july 2025
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31 july 2025
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30 july 2025
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30 july 2025
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30 july 2025
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30 july 2025
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30 july 2025
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