Places
become alive by circling that part of death which still desires
when humans painted stones,
tagging whatever taught them magic,
making their nature unique.
before
we called these places caves,
artists raised their knowledge by nature,
as we now get stoned by reason.
It
is not that we are not artists anymore; we are, by
polishing what's become of death.
hunting
in circles, heroes
leap
from
when animals were
our happiest years.
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