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The clouds are marshalling across the sky,
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Facts about the iris
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I think I grow tensions
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Open your eyes, / open your hands. I have just come
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The work of wings
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Give me your gift, to lose my self in words,
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Do these analogies perplex? A sky with clouds,
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So, be slow if you must, but let
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“Rhythm makes everything move
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Memory, / what can I make of it now
