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Photons at the top

The tip of the mountain is not covered in snow,

Its sharp edges are cutting through the sky

And calling for my hands.

Poor and empty, they have reached the top

And scratched through dry grass and solid stone.

I lost and dropped objects of the soul,

I am filled now with photons and solar radiation.

The journey takes,

The adventure gives.

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Blue light

The blue light of the screen

Gives me results and ageing.

Can I work and not hurt myself?

Can I do science and stay young?

Can I connect and not irradiate my cells?

Conscious and curious,

I sit at my desk.

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