A listening sky overhead,
hears whispers of our words, unsaid.
And though, sometimes, we feel alone,
that mere existance matters not,
or that one life will be forgot,
a chain links us to the unknown.
A listening sky overhead,
hears whispers of our words, unsaid.
We are a part of earth and sky,
as one with nature, when we die.
And though, sometimes, we feel...
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