week of silent sitting comes to an end
atop fire-ravaged serra de monchique long windy road to the sea now covered by morning mist
sudden cool lull in between waves of heat and drizzle a little
as before unclear to you the road ahead
what feels still still alone for this moment is timeless
tread you need tread you will into the mists of where their time of dark their time of bright
traceless come traceless go into the mists of where
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