Friday, August 07, 2015

I hear you

You speak to me, through the wire, the wind, the wave.
Though you are dead, you still live inside everything,
and though they are dead, you will not die until
not even death has a meaning for anyone

They ask about the tree that falls alone
Not a lot ask who will hear the cold death
of a universe refusing to collapse upon itself

I'd like to think you will
But you won't

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Is this wise?
Is this yours?
Is this love?

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