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Before it's sound, why should it's echoes rue? |
I Unbroken crystal waters dancing still And silent in the darkness, 'cept the tone Of gentle waves which stroke the sloping hills Of makeshift shores. Upon this bank, alone I watch the wanton waters in their waltz, disturbing them by means of tossed stone; An instant later doth it bear it's faults And i look on as ripples start their plague, Their futile journey through the azure salts II The impact severs being from the rock The shell may sink, but revenant remains To look upon the tremors of it's shock. Beholdeth what, but atmospheric strain? A slight distortion in the faintest view, Irrelevant in this perspective's pane; What does it care beyond the present, who Should bear the burden of things yet to come? Before it's sound, why should it's echoes rue? III I am the hem of crystal, watch me glide Along the glassy surface without care Or worry of what sleeps on coming tides I am a choice, with gentle steps i tear Through time and space with naught a fleeting thought Of purpose, naught the pangs of when and where Do plague my mind; i never am distraught By queries of existence, who would dwell In matters left behind whilst in advance? IV Only from above is it revealed The irony, incessant in the flow Of thought as men attempt to justify The passing days as ripples on a lake; “Before it's sound, why should it's echoes rue?” “In matters left behind whilst in advance?” Perhaps the only truth is in the way In which the echoes slowly fades to black. |