Reach Through the Dark

If I could reach

through the darkness

that clouds us,

I would touch your hand,

lace my fingers through yours,

feel your muscles in mine,

and whisper to you the truth.

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Time ago

Time ago,

when the wind

still carried words,

a song was born

out of fog and ash

of a dying one,

ancient as the land,

a song that made

the throats of those

who began to whimper

the tune dry and coarse,

one that only the gods

in the winds could hold.