I saw a tree in a nest
Then the nest was in a cage
And the cage was hidden in a room
Absent of light
But filled with
Active familiar voices like
That from a dormant mind.
Then I realised that
Some are nothing but voices
That were never heard,
Love that was never felt,
Peace that never reigned,
Some are paths that were never treaded.
They are smokes of no fire.
So what happens when they are gone?
They remain in our hearts as moons
Left by the night of a never day.
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