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4d
Part IV

(The Spirit’s Voice)

I am not wing, nor thorn, nor spell…
but I watched them all when the silence fell.
I heard the hum, I felt the break,
the tremble when the bond did quake.

They all forget, but I remain,
carved in ash and choked in rain.
I carry names the world let go,
pressed like fossils deep below.

When bloom and buzz are echoes thin,
I keep the shape they once lived in.
And if the wind still cares to hear,
I’ll whisper truth through root and year.
Written by
Sam S  34/M/Dorset
(34/M/Dorset)   
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