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“We have forgotten our brothers”,
they will be bound up
for weeks and months.

What is the passing of time
to the ignorance of days?
The sun rises and sets,
the clouds gather, fade away.
Tomorrow waits to hold hands,
bearing gifts of flowers.

Time sees that line of tomorrows,
the quick fade of flowers,
the sudden parting of the gray days
to black and white,
each bearing the weight of humanity
in a roughly hewn box.

And in the wake
of those days,

nothing.

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