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Metanoia



The waves were coming back;

To the islands of ignorance.

To people who count stars on their fingertips...

 

No, wait

Now they retreat

Away,

To the creeks between the cliffs

Through straight bends.

Heading towards a wishful land

With uncountable moons and countable sand.

 

The islands of ignorance wait

Till the day turns black

But for the waves,

Well, They were never coming back.


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