.
The stillness of things
the silence of lambs
these are the things that unite us
with centuries before
and centuries after.
The certainty of pride
the wicked mind.
These are the things
that last in time.
As her ghost haunts me
in every fine line
the trace of her wisdom
is still in this rhime
A softness explored
from bottom to top
of a mingling (tingling?) melody
in a shimmering light.
Keep two hundred years
all together at once.
And the joy of fulfillment
of accomplished work
makes me wonder
if I'm sure at all.
Of my wills.
Off my goals,
off my soul.
.
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