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Grace of an Ending

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How natural, and silent.
Inevitable and still unknown.
It always approaches; nearing the edge.
Moment after moment.
Whisper by whisper.
Breath after death.
Tumbleweeds roll past,
while the past is left behind,
and the memories remain,
lasting the test of time.
Pools of rainwater evaporate into air,
but still remain in the whole.
Where can we find the ease of acceptance,
and the comfort of the close?
How do we embrace the grace of an Ending?




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