Holding a Rock
whisper in my palm,
a vestige of echoed moan,
resonance long lost
of keepsake and tryst;
of magma lost to surrender,
a vigor crimson-primeval
no longer afloat
in the bliss-fed pulse of a planet.
their molten blood,
a union tectonic and ardent,
immortal, incessant,
no longer to incandesce.
no longer bold,
the verve of the unmeasured,
no longer ripe and redolent,
harvest of fulgent hopes,
no longer revered or brave.
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