Untitled #4

The way of the stream can lead
a senseless soul to an outstretch
of land where effort is made
to bear fruit in an altered way.
The martyrs have been silent
against the wreckage of a coppery
existence. A bone was buried
beneath the roots of the tree.
A breeze in a grey hue,
imposed by the heavy clouds above,
and the open mouth of the lake
can only yield to the intersection
between water and earth.

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