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CXIX
van Gogh's Orchard In Bloom With Poplars
Suddenly pondered
th'Spot fell dead,

leaves all turned red,
birds fled

leaving the place
surrounded by th'Void

all-white deployed:
Fall let go its embrace!

Slowly it'll all: Spring back
to the recovered Mind;

Then th'universe well-defined;
first The Bright, then Th'Black.

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