rivers without water,
springs of stones,
faded skies,
deserts to name ...
songs to write,
birds lacking spring,
lives full of mist,
submerged dreams
sailboats in salt bed,
libraries of empty shelves,
silences of gall,
dawns awake ...
had I seen this invisible burning fire
deserving of the attention of a Freya
that heal my sufferings
for a summer dream that never thrived ....
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