Friday, May 15, 2009


All the smoke you breathe in, will be,
Mixed with the air breathed out, by me.
All the waters, dam and flow,
And fill the hull, that sat too low.
You never know, when time seems to pass,
Until you see it, in a photograph,
You can never go back again,
Only the memory, will let you, now and then.
All the mountains, will drop their stone,
And raise the land, on all our bones,
After all this time has gone,
We will be, where we, belong.

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