When the nights are hollowed–:
bluebrisk from the outside in. . .
I feel that I am close to death.
Because even in a place
like autumn’s bosom,
where the beauty of summer’s breath
slowly dies and turns to blackbrown ash,
I am full to the brim with love.
When the world around me dies,
I am so alive,
and so ready to give myself away
and rest in peace.
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