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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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