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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Shattered Night


Nyyark

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Dark is the sky profiling the tree,

Clouds eat even the stars.

Devoid of grass, the ground spreads like death.

Twisted and cold the tree waits,

Not knowing why it survives.

Then a shimmer appears in the folds of darkness.

A moonbeam lances its way to a leaf,

And the leaf feels its silvery glow.

And burns with ache.

For in this cool liquid light,

The leaf remembers the sun's burning,

And the memory of the fire of life races through its sap.

The twisted heartwood straightens, and the limbs thicken,

To please the fair Moon,

And prepare for the return of the Sun.

 

Edited by: Nyyark at: 1/2/02 11:46:59 am

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