The air is full of lights, it
Is charged with electric storms. The bees are buzzing amidst the trumpet Vines, at night, weightless swarms Of fireflies flash and disappear. The artist paints a flower, then praises The flower. Within its fractal petals, A series of orange flowers blazes. There is a pool, the pool has a source, The water sings, a waterfall, Then rapids, the froth scintillating, Across the current, silver glimmers sprawl.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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October 2019
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