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The Secret

Here we go
Down this scorched…
This broken road.

So well worn and often traveled
And yet none
could direct us to the end

Here we roll
One cycle at a time
Each another line
And another rhyme.

To the very ends of the Earth
To see death
“his face grim and etched with fear
of vitality that douses his fateful, fiery leer.”

To watch birth
“It’s miracle…a miracle truly.”

To love and live and lie
To be, but than to die.

We shall know
One day, we will be shown
no matter how your story goes
You will know.

The secret is not so secret
But Time and other wicked things
are the guardians who keep it.
And they speak in ancient tongues
That only He Himself can understand
As they sing their deadly songs…

Their voices cool as autumn
Their bite like winter’s frost
They inflict temporary blindness
It is then we must hold on,
for all is not lost.

“…And all their smiling faces
glow as they gaze upon you and I
With enough warmth to fuel
The summer sun
And enough warmth to keep us dry
From the miracle of birth
To the inevitable death
And on our journey through the sky.”

The Secret

Casey Lundy

St. Cloud, United States

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