The little thing

” The Little thing was a rarity
a complex simplicity
a morbid freedom
in hushed symphonies

This little thing is quietly noisy
for her silence vehemently shouts
her noise quells the rain
storm and sun, all in all, wholeness

But Little thing are you not made of man
A baby of ruse and whisper
Of make-up and real-up
taught to be so gargantuan

Little, Little thing are you really valuable?
And craned necks croon
the bottles hiss in disembodied melodies
the meadows dry and lakes of sand revive
Little, little thing why are you – dead?” 

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