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To the Last Falling Snowflake

A winters’ stone ‘neath falling skies
this spark of flint to cleave my breast
with seeds unnamed of untold lies
where silence drifts the fallen crest
of crystal crowns and winter robes
our pliant tongues to melt their sound
as waters' breathing burns the lobes
of spirits rise despite this ground
Our palace prisons’ exiled home
well guarded ‘fore our envys’ fears
to think, “My words are mine alone,”
we proudly swallow unshed tears
To claim,”I am my self, alone,”
we seek what never shall be known




------
The body is a season,
the mind, a timepiece
and the spirit, a cloud passing.


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The following comments are for "To the Last Falling Snowflake"
by SaintEnvious

Flakey Snow
Thanks for your insights. I agree with the critical points you raise, you gave me a clear perspective that will help me a great deal to edit the piece. In the 'palace prisons exiled home' phrase, I was thinking of a description of our human condition and mortality.
Best wishes,
Shawn

( Posted by: SaintEnvious [Member] On: December 25, 2005 )





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