The
Miraculous
Cycle

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I have not forgotten
But I have foreseen
The dancers in the forest
Jumping in the stream

I am but a painter
A solid color blue
When the rain cleans
I softly melt for you

Red like blood
Lips like cherry pie
Laughing like children
With tears from old eyes

A feather falls but never lands
It floats upon the wind
For we may die
We will die
But we
Miraculously
Will never end

– SHILOW

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