Photo: Christophe Cagnard
For a mother ...
We pressed a cry,
a sea of \u200b\u200bblood, a wound in his pain
accepted without escape. We
projected his ego in a moonlit night,
silver flower watering,
generous smile. We
burning fever, sleeplessness
not sleep if there is no sleep in our bed.
We are the light that illuminates
his side,
the darkness and fog
if we start
Reaper on his side.
A desert without kissing,
drought in the oasis
if
flew into his arms.
We all
are therefore
your universe is nothing
if we deny our sun. We are your desire
on a snowy winter.
Wind
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