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To Live In Language
it has been quite a time
and i question myself
why all these years i only
use
language?
my language has been a tree without leaves.
a house without roof, home for the rain.
a mountain without a trail, no man is coming for a visit.
all weeds, bushes,
i comfort myself sometimes with all the stars that hang
at night and despite the distance
i feel that i am so near them
and i may be crazy if i have to tell you that
the stars are talking to me
about heaven
that this place where i live now
is not what
is meant for me
and so i miss each night
finding romance and wisdom in its darkness
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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