On the way to living
God tells us certain things
Each day a length of that sacred path
A few pieces of counsel in the conscience
Odin stares from afar
The sun is being filtered
By the month of may
The streets beg movement
But they remain so still
God encourages relief
Under each breath of wind
Noone was listening but I heard
Odin gave the city noise with motors and hammers
contact with hardness
The shape of the abrupt
Empty echoes
I carved wisdom from suffering. I bled for sight. I took what the world would not freely give.
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