My psalms are not a song of sorrow, but a whisper to the stillness,
a plea for the echo to return. I create the silence to feel the depth
of the world’s quiet, to touch the velvet edges of the unknown.
My fingers tracing the walls, of infinity, damp stones of iniquity,
swallowing the shadow of me, true grit in the sand, tasting
old memories, clinging to disembodied bones… “Oh, see, see rider,
see what you have done to me.” My psalms are not a song of sorrow, but a whisper to the stillness.
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Summary:
Haunting
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Cleverly penned, Adagio. Incredible write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian.