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Cold
invites it’s way into my bones,
early morning magpies fossick,
thin mist moves over turned earth,
throughout the night owls and bats called, screeched;
my protestations,
…met with silence.
A life lived,
with spirit, philosophy, and love,
people and places,
tangled embraces,
tumultuous misgraces;
efforts made to partake in the journey and to make it worthwhile,
…met with silence.
Working tirelessly,
for honesty and truth, and things larger than I could fathom or know,
my creativity and innovation,
pushing with frustration,
unfulfilled inspiration;
efforts made, undertakimgs accomplished, and the legacy I left,
…met with silence.
Now I lie in this
place,
polished wood, brass, and buttoned velvet,
calling to others around who cannot hear,
to the foxes and rabbits about life held dear,
of injustice and want, of fear;
efforts made looking for something after this life …perhaps,
…met with silence.
Prompt:
met with silence.
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