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You have spoken the answer.
A child searches for sometimes
Into the red dust
    On a dark rose leaf
And so you have gone far
    For the answer is:


In the republic
Of the winking stars
and spent cataclysms
Sure we are it is off the answer is hidden and folded over,
Sleeping in the sun, careless whether it is Sunday or any other day of the week,


Knowing silence will bring all one way or another.


Have we not seen
Purple of the pansy
    out of the mulch
    and mold
    into a dusk
    of velvet?
    blur of yellow?
Almost we thought from nowhere but it was the silence,
    the future,