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The Forever Song

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Golden hills
shed silver light,
heavens stream
down.

The angels of fallen
hover,
listening
to the lamentations
of the living.

Chords left unstruck,
wailing
winds deep through
a river of souls
as they are swept
to eternity.

The angels greet
them, calling
“Come, brothers,
sisters.”

They call to them,
“Come, brothers,
sisters.
You are home.”

The mist fades,
spirits gone,
but the song still
lingers,
unfaltering.

The notes sung
never strike
harmony.

The song
never
ends.



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