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So real, the flames shine in eternal moments,
As the fogs lift and the rays begin to burn,
In small visions of historical atonements;
From the rain does the parched ground learn.

The strong pattern, of rainbows anticipated,
As a howling wind lifts on upwards, the bereft;
The restless discover all that is related,
The subsiding of storms display, what is left.

J.Bibi