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heart of the hill
Rock and bone collapse to dust, an age
to break, an age to crumble, an age to wash away,
as saplings rise to trees, then crack like bones
and fall, like leaves to earth. Tears vanish
as they fall, longing once exhaled is gone,
dreams slip away beyond recall,
but a leaf is never lost, it rises to trees again,
and waters run away
and fall to run again, blood in the veins of time,
ageless as the ruined breast and toppled ribs of stone
where beauty beats like a heart.

– Randy Wilson