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Winds Of Adversity

Without hands you touched me.
Unknowingly, I submitted
My virgin thought
Of desirable commitment
But not long after,
The tempest rose,
Day turned to night,
Your temperate door close.
At the winds of adversity, you stagger.
A kite rises on the wings of the wind.
A fire kindles by its gentle rough whisper
But by my infuriated wind,
Your untamable flames quenched;
By tender tempest;
Your kite Flinch,
To rest

by Luther Hippolyte

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