Voice of Eternity

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I sit down on my front porch
at the end of the world
and listen to old recordings of our time
can you hear it?
it’s just a single ghost of a syllable
squeezes its way out of the phonograph
drifts hazily into the falling sky
a myriad of its kind join it
from the far corners of the cosmos
I can barely hear the words it says
but it’s beautiful
even though I don’t understand
the voice of eternity





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