A tremor dwells, a fear that clings,
Why is the soul so heavy, the spirit stings?
A single glance, and I rise in flames,
A little of all, forever burns, it seems.
A day consumed, a life's slow pace,
As if a debt, one must erase.
A day consumed, a life's slow strain,
As if a debt, in endless rain.
A mirror's gaze, a moment's ease,
To see a face, familiar, appease.
In this old house, a knowing eye,
That recognizes, passing by.
The fruit, perhaps, now ripe and old,
From the tree of life, a story told.
Again the stones begin to fly,
As if a debt, beneath the sky.
A day consumed, a life's slow strain,
As if a debt, in endless rain.
Your sorrow's stone, I gently take,
And hold it close, for goodness' sake.
Upon my tongue, a melting tear,
Surviving drop by drop, held dear.
From afar, the silences resound,
A calling voice, without a sound.
A calling voice, a whispered plea,
That reaches out, to you and me.
A day consumed, a life's slow pace,
As if a debt, in this lonely space.
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