“my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing”
Ode to Poetry, Pablo Neruda (via fuckyeahneruda)

(via fuckyeahneruda)

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