mother sans frontieres

wandering thoughtsso this tree sway and bend it paints

birds are leaves this whole tree of birds

these looks from the eyes of birds

resemble a boiling blue black thunderhead

it swoops and swoons in rivers of air

pressure temperature gravity

wild front cross me

blizzard my mind white eye

turn me to ashes of ashes

speak me I am nothing

and I will carry your spear…

 

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