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christian poetry

era uma beleza nos dias
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
existir da cisne
talvez năo é nenhuma matéria que vocę morreu
no alvorecer, disse
como um homem despido mim vai
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
as montanhas săo povos silenciosos
em todas as coisas năo faladas de
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
na esfera

 



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