From Twisted Beams
by Alan Clarke
From twisted beams, hopes and dreams,
Clouds came down to bathe the ground
With memories of souls departed.
Yet to bloom again as the dawn rises,
The silent echo of the chatter fills the air
And surrounds the silence whilst holding together clasped hands
And tearful eyes.
Long has gone the fall, the phoenix spreads its wings,
Water flows and lush green leaves surround the solitude.
Hope is not faded, dreams reunite,
And whilst smoke filled air clears, thoughts prevail.
The human spirit does not falter
As our fingers run through lives,
Some distant, some near, but all as close, reuniting as one.
Eternal is the hope we share as we turn.
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