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'Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears, but laugh and talk as if I were beside you'
Overshadowed by a mass of dark clothed figures.
I lie dormant.
A discoloured winged beast looms on to my wooden chest.
I remain serene.
Devout anointed words are uttered to comfort the whimpers.
I wait inertly.
The approving earth begins to proximate and crumble.
I continue to rest in harmonious tranquillity.
'WHY?? WHY??? Why couldn't you have taken me instead',
The teary distraught maternal architect uncontrollably bellows.
All of nature is subdued.
My inanimate heart smiles.
For I know this is not the end.
Keep me alive in your memories my loved ones and friends.
On an unchartered date we will all descend.
And life will resume again.
LullabyWhen it's bedtime,
My mommy will come and kiss me goodnight,
My daddy will tuck me in,
And they will sing a lullaby.
Time for bed,
Rest your head
When it's getting late,
Mom will point me to bed,
Dad will tell me listen to my mother,
And they will watch the evening news.
We'll be here,
Have no fear
When it's past curfew,
Mom will scold me,
Dad will be too drunk to talk,
And they will argue through the night.
Turn the lights off,
And we'll talk real soft
When it's past morning dark,
She will blame herself,
He will have walked away,
And I will sing myself a lullaby.
It's just us two,
We love you.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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