The body floats
The body burrows
The sand collects our progress
The sand collects our progress
Until the end
A line for solace
Turning turning
For hungry hands
Reach their shore
When lottery is lost
Across the land
There is room
For you
For you
On this bed
Of fire and ice
I have kept
Drifting
To and fro
To and fro
Labels: passages, resultalogie, revolution, tide, titles
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