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Still falls the rain
The veils of darkness shroud the blackened trees
which contorted by some unseen violence
Shed their tired leaves and bend their boughs
towards a grey earth of severed bird wings.

Among the grasses poppies bleed before a gesticulating death
And young rabbits born dead in traps stand motionless
as though guarding the silence that surrounds
and threatens to engulf all those that would listen.

Mute birds,
Tired of repeating yesterdays terrors
huddle together in the recesses of dark corners
Heads turned from the dead
Black swan that floats upturned in a small pool in the hollow.

There emerges from this pool a faint sensual mist
That traces its way upwards to caress
the chipped feet of the headless martyr's statue
whose only achievement was to die too soon
and who couldn't wait to lose.

The cataract of darkness forms fully,
The long black night begins;
By the lake a young girl waits unseen
She smiles faintly at the distant tolling bell
and the still falling rain.

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