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Sunday, March 2, 2014

a flower sits still


a flower sits still
its beauty speaks loudly
clouds march in quiet step
yet so poignantly dress
the crinoline of an azure sky
the wolf and the hawk
traverse their homes cape
without disturbing sound
as the forest and the sky
applaud them with an ovation
of freedom

my heart beats unheard
it embraces the human spirit
but tears fall silently recognizing
the breath of apathy that pervades
it hovers not so subtly over the
souls of many for they care not
how they disturb the calming
silence of peace with their angry
hands of violence and war

the flower no longer sits still
nowhere to be found
the clouds have turned grey
with a pungent smell
of burning flesh
the hawk no longer flies over
and the wolf howls no more
for the sounds of death
have disturbed the silence
of the living soul