Without land, no history but in the family
Who committed my sins for me
Engaged in recording that which the act
distances me from
And discerning shapes amidst shadows
In the leafless, lifeless forest
With the sun going down
I once knew of a man who said:
"I'll tell you this much ---
When you tell somebody your dreams
and hopes
You better make sure they love you
like a brother
Or your dreams and hopes probably
won't come true."
I wonder what, he would say
Is the penalty for telling the dream of another?
I flatter myself
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