People Over Politics, World Over Wealth
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Do the stones weep
for ought but love?
Will the sky dry, sere
as desert, no clouds?
Only burning bright;
all creatures, people,
plants reduced to ash,
scattered by the wind.
Can seas boil torment
that equals my pain?
I hang my head, shame
asks, did I say enough,
care enough, do enough,
express my fierce love,
before you were gone?
What voice could I use,
what visage would show
my loss and to what end?
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