towards the sky
they float like leaves
on a lake.
The higher they rise,
the faster they move,
loosing form and substance,
like ice melting in the sun.
'Till there
where the gates should be,
they start to drop
and die.
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| The Rising | |||||||||||||||||||
| Out the window towards the sky they float like leaves on a lake. The higher they rise, the faster they move, loosing form and substance, like ice melting in the sun. 'Till there where the gates should be, they start to drop and die. |
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