I am the voice of the wind, >> here I am
like a reed carved of wood alvioli
and breathing through the tongue of an iamb
as the silk that emit from a snail
softer is the force of a hurricane
than the lament with its reddened cloud stuff
it evanesces with turpitude, though
and its legacies are written in snow
they are redolent no more than a day
that before the sun sets, my innertube,
look, see, I speak of the sky, my Onus
is to inflate it each moment it lingers
while mightiest universe is Outlined
soundless and omniscient blown from my Mind.
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