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A God To Deprive Me Of Compassion

These words are rescuers
and observers
through the insatiable thirst
of survival
that ravages the Earth

We are an invasive species

It's good to leave my thoughts
and listen to the wind

That sound in the forest
is silence's next-of-kin

At an old age
I need to lose myself in it;
without inventing a god
to deprive me of compassion

I let a beetle pass,
and a summer cloud up above

I show the faces of the deceased
the honour of recognition
and posthumous relevance,
as they line up like African masks
in my wake dreams
hovering by,
lightly lifted out of the herbarium
of facial features,
into which they shall return,
slowly dissolving
like the last note in an orchestral score

Fri vers (Fri form) av Ingvar Loco Nordin VIP
Läst 102 gånger
Publicerad 2023-06-28 10:02

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I let a bettle pass, Underbart.
Så nära man kan komma att vara en gudom i en annas värld. Att ingripa utan att handla - obemärkt. Lysande i all sin mänskliga prakt!
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Ingvar Loco Nordin
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