Hymn

I sing you a hymn,

of the shaking leaves,

and of the long shadows;

come forth, there are winds

down among the stones.

Parchment draws the air

of the tides and

little roots in the soil,

of the veiled flowers.

We clasp the universe,

and together we fight

to release the crescendo.

From the sweetness,

from darkness without fault,

raise your voice to bud,

and praise the flowered earth.

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