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Poetry

Poetry

and I made my own way,
unfastened
felt myself a pure part
that fire,
pure wisdom
but from a street I was summoned,
my heart broke loose on the wind.
of someone who knows nothing,
nonseread.99csw.comnse,
planets,
the winding night, the universe.
it came from, from winter or a river.
mystery,
palpitating plantations,
with arrows, fire and flowers,
of the abyss,
and read.99csw.comopen,
the heavens
faint, without substance, pure
And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
abruptly from the others,
and suddenly I saw
and I wrote the first faint line,
drunk wi九九藏書th the great starry
I dont know how or when,
words, nor silence,
from the branches of night,
among violent fires
had no way
void,
in search of me. I dont know, I dont know where
riddled
I九*九*藏*書 wheeled with the stars,
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
no they were not voices, they were not
with names,
fever or forgotten wings,
Poetry
my eyes were blind,九_九_藏_書
And I, infinitesimal being,
I did not know what to say, my mouth
likeness, image of
and something started in my soul,
deciphering
Pablo Neruda
shadow perforated,
and it touched me.