The quiet is deafening after the last voice is gone
Just the dog and me and the wind
The time between one chapter and the next
Between the seasons, an equinox of life
Why must it be summer that looms so ominous?
Such a sweet season to be cursed so.
God, if this journey is your calling for me then lead me well
I lack the will but to follow where I hope you lead
I lack the grace but to stumble
My eyes cloud, my legs fail me
And a bitter wind moans all about me
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