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Acquiescence


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So I wll sacrifice my fragmented ghosts
Anchoring my tired bones in the closet
A clean start in the morning
Of restlessness and holy causes
Sustained my smoothed mind
Terrifies me, but I know I have seen impious memories
Like streaking a dark rose or mourning naked messages
Perhaps grounding that still beautiful dream
To drive a sustained destiny
But as time goes by
A loftier light of thwarted scarlet trembles
Hesitated by mysterious and retractile inhabitants
Saturated on moonless of volatile senses
And then a place where the tenor warbles
A reluctant world under the noisy acquiescence that finally said:
Whistle.


© Elías Lira - April 27th, 2007


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