By P.Flack
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Many a thread sewn, a stone thrown
Single a king, a mote no dragon has known.
A throne, a waters' flush, Hells' blush shy of Heaven
A numbers' faltering single, fires' flow from seven.
Tears of an eye count, inside from out
Voices of a mind, find reason to shout.
The quietest of silent, golden is the castle
The loudest noise, brings least of the hastle.
Stillness still moving, noticed do we see
Let it be known it moves, this drawbridge reality.
When once you find, at least what's lost
You pay priceless the unmeasurable, this cost.
If you find me standing, see this sword, this hand in heart
No sleeve carries, few this weight, this world
APART.