poems back artist cataloque
The soil of eyes
A pit of spirit
And there are some reflections swirling,
And there are thirst and rest
Shimmering in vaults.
A troubled butter-fly
Withinb a lilac fire
Is crucified by dark and joy,
And dancing in raincoats above
There are some melancholic pigmies.
But you wake up,
Don't listen to their groaning.
Because the fire flower
Can trample down the dark.
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