The Raindance - Gord - Aspoet
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Gord

2017-05-04 12:00 am
Mired in consolation,
Known second placer,
For now it rains,
But weather tapers.

Our time forever,
Yet never lasting,
The rain pours on,
The reverb ashen.

Three more passage,
The sun fades,
The moon asks it:
How about a trade,
Your fools, my athletes?
The sun contemplates:
What is life but a laugh,
And rises from ashes.

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