//1//
the immortal breath
a shiver of trees
to bend
and bow
then stand with ease
in grace return
to embrace the sun
gentle and strong
separate and one
//2//
the breeze is
God's awakening
breath of peace
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Poetry and prose from a Beatnik born in the wrong era
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Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread carefully because you tread on my dreams.
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