Soft grains beneath the soil, heavy in the cold days toil.
I ran the thought and wrote the wrought, yet neither did the darkness brought.
Spinning atop the broken rock that sprung the splintered tree to cock.
Bend and wind and whirl below, within the dark and deep in tow.
Find my foot, to still the steep, and hope the shadows fall to sleep.
Pray in silence, breath in whist... and hope it fall with all exist.
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