
Emptied vault opens,
casts leavings of shriveled seeds
beyond redemption.
Between the edges
nothing could penetrate here,
wind, rain, tears—nothing.
Sound had no life here,
dying in small deaths of emptiness,
eternal silence.
A life damaged beyond
repair, encased by cold stone,
a life of shriveled seeds,
lived in a stone vault—
lightless, soundless
thirsting.
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