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Rocks will fall under the gentle push of water

as worlds spring up and lose themselves

that same vicious moment of creation

so we wait out these haunted days by windows

watching only the simplicity of swaying treetops

is nothing else as lost and forgotten?

altruism filled with hopes of daring action

already past and quickly behind

the only true sound is the silence of the woods

finally lost in that fleeting dot of time

which happens to never have existed in the first place

If one were to forget everything that has happened

what would they know but the same?

so teach them all of what we can never seem to forget

and the faces will harden into solemn thoughts and gaze

The truth of it all lay hidden from us beings of externalization

distant and gone somewhere

deep past the oaks and creeks and cliffs

into hidden river bottoms where all our gods sit and wait

only for nothing except to watch the water

and its graceful covering of transient trips

to the final otherworldly sea

far from these swaying treetops

or those who wait so sullenly

anxious for everything that comes

The End

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