What softer voice, hushed
Over the bony cage
Playing flute by its dead end
Memories are lured away
Into the crowded skies
To shovel its next space
A Requiem to repose
The dead of nether land; and
A blink of spreading silence
Take hammer of thy fist
And nurture your nerve
Commanding respect in stones
I know the writings of pen,
The tab and the touch screen;
All graphite, and carbon black
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