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Flames That Will Burn no More
I sit and wonder where the good love goes
once the flames diminish all is said passions
finished.Where does the spirit of past lovers
lay.Well-maybe brushing the floor in some quiet
sea.Well-maybe pounding tired earth where it
does not rain.Well-maybe wheeling behind bars
not seen by the unaided eye.Well-maybe unhappily
settled in their burial working to dig free.
Well-maybe only on breeze the summer heat and
wing.Well-maybe locked in a heart's chamber of
and blood and still water.Well-maybe bound to
transient state like in memories.The flames
that burned will burn no more.
poem
by
William Blackman
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