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There’s an odd silence out tonight.
Even the freeway is quieter,
Like an ice storm
Has frozen everything still.

Just beneath the icy surface
There is an unafraid trembling
Of Mother Earth.
Ancient echoes resurface slowly.

The eternal child touches Her gown,
A tiny whisper,
As large as All,

“Yes,” says She knowing,
Each pulse of her immortal heart,
Knowing everything.

“Mother,” the child breathes,
Knowing too,
What no child should know.
Tears of knowing.
In between heartbeats.

Unending patterns.
Inevitable cycles.

Some day we shall be
Too tired for these
Constant strainings,
Exhausting repetitions.

The child asks
The ancient question,
“Is it war?”

Steadying, She inhales,
A pause in Eternity,
Weighing everything,
She replies,
“Not yet.”



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