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Crazy Da Must Sing

When things have left him,

then he makes a sound.

And sounds alone

have made my world.

It is alone,

but lonely is the symbol of its God.

Before they leave me

I have made a sound.

Before the ruin

of the vowels and edges

of his mood.

I turned him right and left to see.

I leave him now and now.

Until he’s soundless

as the sound itself.

Until he hears me by.

I hear me,

telling him I AM I AM I AM.

And all the world comes rushing back.