Have a taste and let me know if you like it warm
My breath still burns its winter passion flames
Drenched as it were by tempests of gloom
Do not worry dear friend, my madness touches those touched at the brow by the burning ashes of life
Who shed daily driblets of tears and laughter and fill
Pots of time with plastic trinkets of nostalgia
Their moods mingle with seasons and light, with
Rain clouds and summer winds, sultry afternoon sands
They search for the source in sunsets and tsunamis
Dramas, other people's traumas, in pride and the self
In losing and giving oneself, they seek to find you,
Who have never lost yourself. You, my prince.
My peerless friend, you, who needs neither
ashes nor sands. You, who have been
Born blind to pain. You will be free.
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