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Apr 2017
I don't  feed into you
I  feed myself
I look gazing
into space
Closely watching the minutes
Time  wanders by
I  stroll many miles
Over land
and over the seas.
The waves toss to and fro
The clouds are grey
Clothed with sadness
Letting loose the fallen stars
They drop one by one.
The moon has gone to sleep
She shines no more
The sun sinks below the waters
Light is no more
Men groan  
Women wail.
The trumpets sound.
Seven scrolls are opened
Many  left to their own device's.
The earth  has  become its own worst ememy. .
Rosalind Heather Alexander
Written by
Rosalind Heather Alexander  64/F/Edinburgh Scotland
(64/F/Edinburgh Scotland)   
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