words in daylight uttered without least dread
have not the echo of the chilly dark
when into emptiness we might embark
look up right now and see the bird is sped
that bore the message and now in its stead
we're left to kindle one remaining spark
this morning when the trees are bare and stark
knowing so many words were left unsaid
some might expect a choice but if we feign
not to give in but to attempt the height
would laugh to see us fail to reach the stars
rather they'd say the clouds will promise rain
a storm is coming and behind it night
yet here we stand on the green hill of mars
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