Crying out to Moon
The still breeze, is at times
just enough to pluck off dry leaves
Ah.. dried they were
of the unseen tears
which just plucked out on and on
There was a deafening hum
The most bleak ever sung
Yet inaudible and unheard...
All is game within the mind
Counting over that mute babel
He sat there -Crying out to Moon.
Shining spirals, moving darkness
Touched by Untouched
Something choked,
andIt was the end, end to end
for beginning a new beginning....
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