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A M Ryder Feb 2020
We fall into
Form fitting pieces
Of one another
Each other's own
Silent feeling

But it is all I want
To sleep still and
Dream unafraid
Aching deeply to
Drum thunder across
Vacant marble halls
Coalescing as the
Texture of the things
We all have
Trouble believing

Though it shows
Aimlessly we go
Out with lanterns
Looking for this thing
We call a soul

— The End —