e-Paper Poetry of Vinx

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#18 lines of a moon-smith

We may not know the value
Of the minas of Gold
And shekels of silver.

Love is an intense light
That gets us amazed
And delighted.

In darkness of hatred
Pretense
Can’t subdue its presence.

It stems from the bottom foot
Through the innermost liver,
It shines red and white roses

And reflects through the eyes
The burning of the heart
As an intense light.

We are all “moon-smith”
Someday, we would mould
A fullmoon of love.


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