discourse.

and all of this, this horrid bliss, made us realize just who we were.

but we realized too late. we had already become. we had already begun.

and, beneath the willows, we wept.

we sang songs that echoed in the treetops. the ravens heard our sorry cries drawn away by the gentle wind.

and still we sang another song.

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~ by Mary Christa on February 13, 2011.

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