If It's Too Loud
Each past, an echo not our own,
worshipped as the most and best.
It's a crowded cemetery, yet alone
we lie when put to the test.
Canyons carved by a vanished rain
will also crumble under their own weight.
Every bend records the strain
of water passing through this date.
Sifting the ashes of a dead fire
where warmth no longer exists.
The remains no longer inspire
as nostalgia grows and persists.
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