Rain turned to ice,and lightning splintered, it splicedthe black sky, it seeped a bright white.All animals they fled,from the sky as it bled,pale death that fell veiling the night.
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.
The Book of Love: Poems of Ecstasy and Longing
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Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.
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