Is There a Place
Is there a place in between the sky’s tears
That remains untouched?
Despite the pain of wars, poverty and unrest?
Where could that place be?
And if it exists, how can it be open for all to cherish?
And why does it hide?
Does it wait for something or someone?
Does it wait at all?
Does this place linger in art and song?
Or is it in the hopes of youths’ eyes?
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