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The Cry

Deep down in the primordial muck
A nascent scream
Attempts to escape
Mute lips unformed.
The scream echoes down the generations
Kindling a fire
Deep in the hearts
Of the warm breathed clay
Stalking about the mists
And vales
Of a green and brown streaked globe.
It reverberates
Within the winking minds
Whose twinkling eyes
Peer upon
A deep sparkling sky
Whose myriad brilliant suns
Have burst into flaming life
And again burst
Into gasping death
Since the silent scream's sigh.
It drives those burning hearts
And winking minds
To reach up,
Up into the burning sky
And quest ever outward.
It is the cry in us all.
It is the ancient
Scream that burns:
I am alive
And I am

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