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Noble Feathers

Noble feathers of the wind

Fall at the behest of their master,

Twice slain in that fallow field

Which men refuse to plow,

For there lay the bones

Of each one's murder, the

Deaths they carried out that

Carry out their own.

This, out of all truths, may be

Ascertained: death begets

Death, but also life, in

That day when the bones sprout,

Flourish, and bear fruit.

The fallow field shall be called

Fertile, and the men who

Slayed themselves will fear only beauty.

Snæfellsjökull, Iceland. 2019


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