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The Sea Runs Through My Hands
Poem by Abe V Rotor
Stop roaring and cease to be wild
But don’t stop the tides come and go;
Just come even only once
To soothe my hands and make
Them soft, gentle and mild
As mild as the breeze that cover a still sea;
As mild as the flow of a deep stream
That whispers in music among the trees,
That brings back the faithful to thee.
Run through my fingers, I can’t hold you;
Wash me then that I may be as pure as you.
Pristine you came and forever shall be,
So with the land and air,
The lake and the sea.
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