Monday, February 24, 2014

Shadow Echoing


The eyes that never grow old,
the clarity that never dies,
the worth of every life,
the depth of simplicity,
the revolution or a guide?

To build a road, no longer necessary,
breaking this link with humanity,
no connections made,
the dial tone trades.

It is the bitter chill in the air,
that snaps the chain for repair,
not naturally; Inevitably.


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