The poem is lost
it is gone forever
lost to the veil of time
lost to the vagaries of memory
lost to the inexorable past
its words will be no more
its essence dissipated
its once intense feeling forgotten
it has burned its fierce light but once
its soul as bright as the darkness that followed it
its after image a bitter testament to its passing
no more shall it be spoken
no ears shall hear its verse
no eyes shall peruse its letters
gone is the poem
gone are its whispers
gone is the inspiration that conceived it
The poem is lost
and it shall never be written again
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