Cubic Words

I am not a silent poet

There are hues of
blue embracing those of red
to vibrate in harmony.
There is a sense
of their movement above
the limits.
There is ceaselessly
a feeling in the sense.
The feelings can be objects.
..
Conceivably, the things have
a beginning,
because we believe it,
and maybe
there is neither beginning nor end.
..
In the spring rain,
there are kissing statues.
In the lulled lodgings
emblazoned with
shadows of shabby objects
on the walls,
there are lonely people
meditating about their life.
There is a measure of vulnerability
For everything that is good
..
and for the starving birds
in searching for seeds everywhere
as for those cancerous youngsters
having unimaginable pains,
still yearning to be cured
not till experience.
In the coverings,
there are riders of the history
dressed in armor
to enter the mind’s imagination and
all that is not the mind’s imagination.
..
In…

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