There comes a time,
despite our unwillingness
to believe it, when blood
loses its value.
When strings tacked
tightly to the control bar
snap, recoil and down
falls the marionette
in a soul-less heap
like a boneless creature
or discarded skin.
The mind remembers
some things for some
time, how things
were whole
but the spirit, always
blind in this world
rushes formless
into another.
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