There’s a wanting in the silence
where flowers quiet lie
in the leaving dusk of colors
where waits the darken chill.
There’s a question in the coming
where petals fall unheard
behind the light of shadows
where visions leave the sorrow.
There’s a spirit in the keeping
of all things left behind
like those fallen petals weeping
upon the birthing of the earth.
Like the sleeping of those ripples
throughout the humanity of man
where waits the morning savior
to wake the petals from the earth.
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