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The Land Of The Free

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It is a fractured hourglass- a crack between two

The battle rages through night;

Heavy with dew.

The pink hat is adorned;

See! It even hisses

Like thunder in the night.

Are we back with Abraham

the past crack not healed?

Or yet- in the future-

Just what we need?

The claws are extended

How deep is the scratch?

Enough to make us bleed

The drops of our perpetual solipsism

at the hand of greed.

How much heavier must it be

Until the tree has fully blossomed

Outstretching its fruit- to mend?

Will it end?

In God we trust

To take us home.


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