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Jan 2016
The bells tolled in silent air, no mummers
Where uttered in haste as white cloth over
Black draped upon their figures.

On the desecrated reminisce of ash petals
That grow in this place each is picked with
Elegance so not to fracture there fragility.

A new one Is found to replace those that
Unveiled their voices on solemn oaths to words
Never to be uttered, they surrendered it t air.

Voices of blood echoed on the floor, a chastity
Forsaken and white cloth drank upon the wine
Till it had its fill, then voiced its intent in puddles.

The shaded leaf was gently dissected between fingers
And where lips blessed word, the ash sealed them with
The twine of dead embers, and they screamed silently.

Silken coverings where bestowed on the vacant realms
Of purities, in the convent of silence where the dead
Don't speak and muteness is a sound only heard.
Poetic T
Written by
Poetic T  On Oblivions Doorstep
(On Oblivions Doorstep)   
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