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May 4
it is still too early to laugh
and to cast upon the ground the wing of the absurd forest.
it is still too early to be anything at all.
very ancient dogs cough in the distance
and the stairs creaks funereally,
i enter the library
the books withdraw their roots from the shadows
and prepare their expectant voices
for whatever may come
Written by
Eduardo Edmundo  49/M/Almada
(49/M/Almada)   
  147
   Zeno
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