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Animalistic Hymn

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The red sun rises
without intent
and shines the same on all of us.
We play like children under the sun.
One day, our ashes will scatter—
                                           it doesn’t matter when.
Now the sun finds our innermost hearts,
                                           fills us with oblivion
intense as the forest, winter and sea.


Source: Poetry (June 2011)

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This poem originally appeared in the June 2011 issue of Poetry magazine

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Animalistic Hymn

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