Upon the alimarah
Against the room’s walls
Between the swirling fan’s blades
A bat clashes,
Falls, scatters.
But birds, thousands of miles away,
Fly across the blue of the sky
And the massing of mountains
And have never, so far,
Lost their way.
Against the room’s walls
Between the swirling fan’s blades
A bat clashes,
Falls, scatters.
But birds, thousands of miles away,
Fly across the blue of the sky
And the massing of mountains
And have never, so far,
Lost their way.
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