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Perishing Hour

In the end of it all,
flowers, stone, and deaths call
ravaging relatives: attentive for the will
of the will… In complete awe.
Still,
and placed shall remain,
nor kingdom of glory or tortured flame,
for only reflection exists in the perishing hour
where cloaked friends, and tea time sour.
And there shall enroot thoughts to show
how it was, for lines of life to grow.
Mirror, figments, and snippets of all that pass
lag judgment on all spent on green equivalency last.



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