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Poetry

(Re)Sound

The jester works in echoes past
He has no voice today
Surely did he breathe his last
For this gig, he earned his pay


But still his voice, it lingers on
Carried again by air and wire
Resounding through this day’s dawn
Sparking action like a fire


And laughter too accompanies it
The crowd lifts him on its wings
The proper response for each bit
As music they continue to sing


And as a tree falls, the dead man speaks
But I wonder if he’s there
For now he’s found the truth we seek
All that’s left is moving air


​What wisdom comes from the voice of fools
Though by the court acclaimed
Are these lessons the finest school
​Having met the standard of fame?
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  • Home
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  • Contact
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