this hand held before you
for a brief, fearful moment
will fade,
yet somewhere music will continue to play;
a garden will grow; children will dance with joy.
still between us now
only ashes scattered
by a voice make sense.
i poke at language
hoping against its silence.
for a brief, fearful moment
will fade,
yet somewhere music will continue to play;
a garden will grow; children will dance with joy.
still between us now
only ashes scattered
by a voice make sense.
i poke at language
hoping against its silence.
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