Language of the Wind

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I've fallen apart
Adrift on the zephyrs of nothing.

Crumbled slate
Undecided fate

Accompanied by a sting of tears
Stand against your fears
Worrying yet for tomorrow,

Completely disregarding the Rustle of now.

A whisper thrust into the past
The insular manifestation

Of goals Unmet
Ambitions And Defeat
Born of one sea
Fighting for life, in the same net.

Oh how I quivered.

I should have listened to the Trees
And the Language of The Wind
For in a world of Sin
And Constant Tradegy

Of all kinds,

The closet thing to Salvation

Is the Wonder of imagination
And obtaining Peace of mind.

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