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Greyson Sweetbrook 8

Updated on May 5, 2016

we are carved

We are carved from hard things. From edges

of steel, with eyes colder than January. And

our wood, our carefully ringed souls, carry the

marks of the pain to form something enduring

longer than the useful and chiseled marks of

anguish. Yes, if that’s believable, that is how it

is young man. There shall be pain, and their

shall be the spark by the spark in her eyes.

We shall sail on, and we shall sail on, for to

stop is to die, and to die is to forever unwraps

the dream that whispered the the answer to the

big question while you were busy loving.

We are carved from hard things, we are the

trees that endure winter to leave another spring,

to once again hoist our sails, cast our line, and

carefully watch for the response of a thing so

fair, and so elusive, it shall beat in us forever

as a second heart.


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