Hare and Berk
Honour lies in a Templar tomb
webs of time and dust of long dead life
cover like a blanket
but bringing no comfort
strange wherever there is comfort there is pain
Hope lies close by ripped and torn
indistinguishable from the flotsam that sprinkles the floor
The silence says little
and sunlight seems to change its mind
and halted brings life to grit within the air
and upon a broken stone
the words
the soul was always gone
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