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I am a distillation process,

turning sage leaves into fragrance,
turning disgusts into knowledge,
turning chaos into arrangements…

Of flowers, dreams and truths,
I am the mystery extracted,
the essence of our youths
strengthened strong but not protracted:

I am the eye of the inner child,
of the approaching hurricane
that kills to comfort the reviled,
to purify the social brain:

I am from where the poet leaps:
the dusty cracks where genius creeps.
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