Forget what must be done,
The “thing” with which we eat,
Evolve like the sea,
wild, sensually blue.
May the water flow and move around
endlessly, mixing everything.
May the grey be dirtied by
pure colours
and the forms clash with the truth,
in this desert
of hope and confusion.
Wild but not brutal,
just like the grass,
the rose and the violet.
Defying time, they blossom
to touch the perfume,
which is for no-one in particular.
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