Beneath the stretched-out, nocturnal firmament, thoughts overwhelm my being,
Questions unassuaged by answers, echo of the void,
About forests of the future, trees with waiting roots,
About children from untold dreams, with smiles that cannot be found.
Those books with pages lamenting for the ink's caress,
How they remain closed in the drawers of oblivion, begun and never finished,
Phantoms of...
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