Poem Hunter
Strands Of Life
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Strands Of Life

That awful sound
uttered so lightly
''he's dead''
passes through you
rising roots intwined
that softly dim
cheerful eyes
into tears-
finding the body
of a man
at the base
of one of the seven pillars
makes the question hang
in the air
like a bad smell-
blood, full red
with lifes own heat
taken by
firey pride
left to rot
by the side
seven pillars stand
like a simple stone
joining a brook
where water
isn't far
to follow
strands of life
on a restless spirit
and just as stiff
on an endless night
where every thought
has power
and things really don't mesh

Copyright ©2004

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