Friend it's not too late
To tie those wrists
To the pillars,
To the pillars that hold us
And shake the halls
For our plagues
Like walls have become
Stone between us.
My strength is letter thin
And words so spare
Will never be spoken if written,
If written so soft
The ink will fade
Through for us.
Then let the archer
Lay his bow as a marker
To draw the arch
As a line in the earth.
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