Like sand...
Like sand, blow by the wind,
I wonder shining at the sun,
among us silent.
The very thought
that once we hide
be lost in the wind,
for death is without recurrence
to me
Can such an shell
without
his accidental circumstances exist?
When the doors of truth are like foams that set.
Because every man,
therefore, may tend to madness.
poem by Luca Menin
Added by Poetry Lover
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