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On the upper road


Time doesn’t matter on the upper road
It stopped passing a long time ago
The children here are descended from trees
that wandered down the mountain before there were leaves

The forest knows how to make itself still
and let the sky come to it
The birds know just how to call to the sunlight
and when to let it fade away
The dead make themselves food for the living
and the living learn from the sacrifice of those that are gone

Ghost machines rattle down roads
that were eaten up by wilderness a long time ago

car in the woods


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