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Nearest Our Spiritless Screeching


I said it might go on forever. Might I be right? It needn’t be asked… it is Love.

Forever’s the noise nearest our spiritless screeching, over the droning waters as jack boots for when they paced in outraged nervousness at their fate, it is most loud. The night is over for sadness. Thank you for your gift, for you coming to her rescue, for you reaching out with Love, arms outstretched in a hallowed dance with affection, laughter so crisp it strikes at the silent veins of Love and brings forth her gift to those of us who recognize her, but for all of our squander, see her not.

Love, help us!

This goes on forever…


© 2011 by mark prime


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