....
that he who learns now the sun and moon
of his mother's milk may return
before the lips blaze and bloom
to the birth bloody room
behind the wall's wren
bone and be dumb
and the womb
that bore
for
all men
the adored
infant light or
the dazzling prison
yawn to his upcoming.
in the name of the wanton
lost on the unchristened mountain
in the centre of dark i pray him
....
Dylan Thomas
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