I don't know the words.
Shoulders brush the author,
Greetingless.
Our rock hurtles farther every day
Like breathing, the melody is here.
Each time our awe is lost
The tune becomes oceans and atmospheres,
Our breathing pauses,
A silent space for song.
You don't know the words
Stubborn, not to say his name.
He's the father who welcomed you in
The landscape you appear on.
Say his name.
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