January 11, 2010
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Some say marbles are nothing but glass

It’s shameful how they lie

Marbles are made of stars and gas

That glossy streak is somebody’s sky

Galaxies float in these little balls

Cradled gently in my hands

Heavens swirl as a shooting star falls

And high winds stir up distant sands

Can’t you see all that living and dying

They’re doing way down in their world?

So loud I hear their small voices crying

As chaos is slowly unfurled

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