101 When the backbones of Julius burn the waters, to brittle with thickened blood

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July does not freeze the pain of passing beauty

Nor the hopeful future of greening youth

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They both reach a new destiny.

For those whose breath completes the height of a summer

There is esprit.

Blessed with no desires

There is no pain.

Complete waterlessness awaits.

There is no pain

Complete waterlessness awaits.

And we will float and float and float.

© 2015 La Floralie


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