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October 5th, 2005

Shadows on the wall are seen,
Playing in a distant scene,
Fading on a dimming screen.

Could this be a dream?

Whispers echo in my head,
Voices over meadows tread,
A sound that now has fled.

Is there a common thread?

Perhaps the line that doesn’t end,
Is the one that never did begin.

Or perhaps this is the end.


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