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Upon a Marble

 
There's a black window behind the sky
reflecting the colourless room.
There are a million marbles in disarray
waiting to collide, to be re-rounded
and we smile on fragments of broken chunks
ignoring the screech of a grieving eagle.

When the sun flings its shadow
into the pits of our quaking chests
we too will briefly mourn and bawl
before we chute down the gullet
of a silent eagle, nesting on a high ledge
as it weighs the trees that still
stand with a new dance to an archaic wind
and decadence is a blue, blue sky
leaning on an indigo sea.



Written by MrAlptraum (Mr A)
Published
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