Aaron Helton

Surrounded by our rings of sand and stone, We sing our prayers to cold cathedral walls. Mistaking that an echo's something new, We seek our counsel from the substrate of The words we thought to say and etch in place. Now trapped within this hollow sacristy We shout and beg and plead, cajole until The darkness eats our hoarse and plaintive voice And mocks us with a faultful mimicry.

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