The First Morning
"The world is old and breathing here,
In mossy lungs and silvered river.
No clock has dared to etch a line
Upon this cathedral of leaves and water.
To stand amidst this hallowed wild
Is to feel the earth find her stolen child;
The noise of the age begins to cease
In the ancient ache of a perfect peace. "
João Soares - 03.03.2026
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