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.
And in the vine of the divine, There is a fine line;Between tragedy and comedy,That a man cannot define.
Equinox
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And in the vine of the divine, There is a fine line;Between tragedy and comedy,That a man cannot define.
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i have laughedmore than daffodilsand cried more than June.