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Posted on November 1, 2018 by Basquiat
Leaves are turning,
Not the golden yellow and the bright red of the past;
Still dancing in the light breeze,
Until falling to the earth, nourishing its soil.
Still fighting the grandeur of mankind,
The poles, glaciers melting,
Venice is sinking.
Will we wake up?
Basquiat
All Saints’ Day — November 1, 2018
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