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Isaace Mar 2023
As we walked through the old church, once more,
We saw little Andoni was there, sitting scared,
Asking us: "have you forgotten our prayer?"
He was angry and very square.

In the corner,
Shrouded by smoke,
Odilon Redon was there.
He watched on with an exalted air.

So we carried little Andoni to the aqueduct
And we sat in the aqueduct, square.
And we sat in the aqueduct until midnight,
Where we had first conceived of our prayer.
low poetry Sep 2022
every second is a moment
every did makes waves
ignore those who dormant
search for truth in eyes
the first lines of poetry is everything
the rest is indulging
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