In flight there is no destiny,
only ulterior motives,
molt roots,
spoiled fruit.
Without prayers to accompany her,
without gods to mourn,
without shoulders that are strong,
not even a flat road.
Silence deafens everything,
the steps muddy,
the air is thick
and the darkest light.
Thus man is a captive
which is kept secret.
It is his truth that leaves,
the one who wants to ignore her.
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