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Directive 4 - Radio Edit

de Fragments
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Down below in the desolate depth,
as far as the eye forgathers with the dreadful curse,
horizons open and split the earth.
Spectral sombre lights envisage their rebirth.


I sense the arrival
of pernicious invisibles,
of entangled whispers in the depth.
A plague of unborn emerges out of summoned tides.
A never dying fever?
A vision crystal clear?


Thousand tongues burst my veins.
My arms open wide,
to embrace the dead,
the unborn child.