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Mar 2017
It falls heavily, it falls softly, it falls...
Each carving of nature, formed by divine hands,
Made to its own unique shape,
A pebble, a stone, a monument.
Attacks free of arms, escapes free of guilt.
Leaving its mark on history without a trace.
A simple charm of luck, a complex sign of love.
Holding up the world, until the moment it must fall.
Expanding the limits to block out what once was.
A brave mountain, a gentle church,
Offering open sanctuary like a warm embrace;
Delivering gelid confinement like an icy prison.
It is abundant.
It is forever.
And always.
The Silence
Written by
The Silence  Their Thoughts, My Words
(Their Thoughts, My Words)   
452
   Sam
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