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Mr. Sister Elle Sade Ai Ni

Scythians Meet Goths (poem)

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There are fires

right here between

me and you.

There are flames

rising through night

and tribal dancing.

Shaman where do you go?

Into crossworlds?

Where a gnome cobbler fixed these old boots.

Just you and me,

no need for social ritual.

You go this way, I go that...

Our tribes makes treaties.

We make babies.

Bells ring around your ankle.

Nomadic romance; high plains.

Our child will be one with no enemies.

One day all mankind will return to this place.

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