Myriad

Mourning is like standing in the wind The heart of man finds it Within the spiral of a lush Look up at the clouds The rain is coming down The end of time is painting it The ebbing can of tug and pull The brush of time stands in Cascading The rippling waves Cross my ocean surface Dribbling nightly affections Trembling like the lips of a weaning fish Gasping for air like a man That is living

CuldeSac

What are words without understanding and what is understanding without sense?

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