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Thursday, February 10, 2005

The River

The silent ripples tell no tales as the river flows down the town.
Like the dead, the silence is all the story you get to hear.
And you sit on the bank and wonder and you hear not even yourself.
One day you must be part of this. The unto dust stuff.
That day seemed so far off.
Not anymore though.
Now I can almost hear the eternal silence.

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