Other Poems by:

Rex Nemorensis


Whoever will have much to reveal,
Keeps much silent within him.
Whoever will ignite lightning,
He must long be - a cloud.

God's Lament

Here I sit, making men
In my image,
A race, which shall be like me,
To suffer, to weep,
To enjoy and be glad,
And to ignore you as I do!

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