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I am a distortion, a ripple,
Nothing but a whisper on the breeze.
Gone in an instant,
I remember.
I remember times unknown, unseen,
Likened to silence,
And peace.
Death has no hold,
On souls in holy stillness.
Forgotten, in exile from themselves.
Purposely, in quiet solitude,
With ease and futility,
I wait for the day.
The day of light.
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