how goes it my friend
the world we have to defend
her uniqueness her beauty
her breath until the end
the end of time is not known to be
a part of natural history
but the end of the world
is a story told
and it is not something
to behold
for if you held it in your hands
and felt it run away like the sands
in an hour glass with out a frame
would your actions be refrained
from deplenishing what you took
with out a second look
to what will come undone
if from reality you continue to run
the parchment paper is still wet
with our feet we haven't met
but you are able to scribe
what I fear will come undone
and not keep you alive
alive to hear my words
to heed to call, to call them all
to arms
not against but for
armies of love should be knocking at the door
the door of inception
the door of conception
the door of enlightenment
the door to what we meant
when we said be free to will
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