nearly

i want to send it out in victory

and bring it in with joy

i wish for celebration

but smoke drifts from this

the pyre of annum gone

may it waft past mount and gorge

fill you with warmth
there is a book balanced

at the end of this pen

the story of my sins

the legacy of my lies

fresh untrodden soil kicked over

cold remains kissed hard in disbelief
time taunts again

i feel no fear

just a detached wonder

that a being wrung so very dry

still weeps
we wait

for break of day

sound of bird

rustle of divine

nodding from our deepest void

to what we cannot see

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