They say the roots of the trees contain the bodies of the dead.
They walk and speak in sacred silence.
To know and to be,
To see nothing,
To fear nothing.
I looked over my shoulder
Into the embers of Heaven
And saw the writhing remains of the Great Flood.
Death stood gloomy over his useless tools--
Life hacked vigorously at Time
As he finally stopped
In a soundless scream
With Hope delicately wrapped in his loving embrace.
A tragic lovers' hold,
One, two, three broke
As soon as Death passed by
Without a glance.
The flux became straight,
And I could not speak because
What was said never left my lips.
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