The way the current unearths Words we failed, To hear buried Beneath bygone pebble And the way the sea fails To drown Out the rolling of Paper into passing messages. It sounded like montar un pollo, This sonically rolled shout, But the sand settled around my heels, Still Or had it been tomaten auf den augen haben Though the sun had not yet begun to set, The sky colored in its reflection Of all we tried to hide in transit, rolling in. Still It might have sounded as buscarle la quinta pata al gato But there are too many Things that have left me searching For a new sense And where did this notion of identity Arise that it is to be known, At any given time Still The resounding dies irae before I twisted The cap may have given Away the nothingness of my subsequent confusion The way trying to understand Is as foolish as trying to share The way loving is no less Irrational than giving what you love away Echoes of waves pass, And I keep My jar sealed for fear the sound Will be lost-- Existence that cannot be known Until opened But I give it to you anyway. Can you hear through the glass?
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