E

It is cold and snowing unless you have found a way to enter,
a path inside a burning angel amidst fun and clatter,
eyeless and breathless, holding a blank book, shamelessly burning,
grey hair inundate a grey sky and the next one,
thick and enticing, food for dragonflies and vultures,
the eyes of rabbits define the smell of the stars they see,
empty-handed winds know neither north nor south.

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