Born of an old age
with much to unlearn
the summers heat,
such cold breeze:
a palace
the walls
A moat that swallows
the glee, screams
and all
And into that ire
upon a flava low
Burning memories go
I know I know now
what youth means;
the long gestation
until we’re born
And be!
:: 08-13-2017 ::
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About EPRobles
Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love...
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