once the night brings the moment
when limbs just limbs are
and elbows seem to soothe
the body into a position
of storytelling
far away
a battle rings
in ears of pedestrians
crossing the paths
i welcome all the sound
to be paraphrased
properly in the name
name of moroseness
the one that comes and goes
like flowers in the spring
and in the winter when
they die to be covered
by holy holy snow
and crude breeze
that is how one prepares
himself for the discoveries
of that night
you can just taste it
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