|  libero | May 13, 8:02am |
I came near the source that travels through the mountains
She uplifted my head
With her gentle hands she said:
Listen, don't say a word
Disregard that I
Look in me
Music sparkle
When I slither between stones
Mountains, trees and light
I don't sow, I don't harvest
I'm the Song which still echoes peace
And my voice reaches you
Sliding all over time
As your first lullaby. |
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Live Poetry Slam → Discussion