The Wind
- M.B.Bueno
- 23 de fev.
- 1 min de leitura
The wind runs over me
In a way
That leaves me
Far beyond time
It pierces me
It frees me
As if I were no longer
A part of it
The wind passes
But not time
That remains
It doesn't even seem to exist
It flows through infinity
It moves from nothing
To nowhere
It is God
In its essence
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