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Feb 2017
Forged from the dust of long dead lights
struck by the hammers of time
bound forever to paths of space
held by tines divine

Strike once !

Strike twice!

Strike thrice!

and see the sentience bloom
of the hammer and might and unyielding sight
of his eyes of stars in bloom

Strike once!

Strike twice !

Strike thrice


Temper their hollow shells
Sculpted from the flesh of worlds
unto which he'll meld

Strike again!

Now soft.

[And shape them true,
and speak to them your words
and grant to them their human form
and teach them of the absurd]

to ring out their sighing dirge
and bind unto their idle forms
the mind, the soul, the search
I quite dislike the way this poem ends. Maybe someday I'll alter it.
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