"The air hung cool but heavy at Kapālama in the early evening. The muted sound of a hundred and fifty voices lilted through the dense mist and over the waves to a hundred thousand radios. The campus sat, regally, on a mountainside, as a general surveying the common people on the plains below."
You were the wrath of a rock with mouth opened.
With a face through which death has passed, you came back
with shoulders which changed the wind’s path.
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