Lightning is the God of Again.
He strikes no place twice from above
As long as the clouds don’t bear rain
And heat remains frictionless love.
Air, God of Now, fills each tulip
Like a sun not subject to shade,
With love makes the balloon pop
And sees the dead carcass decayed.
The God of And is in the dust
Blown from soil, blown from flower,
Clinging in the storm clouds where lust
Of Now for Again breeds the hour.
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