The Rising

It seems we were born
to murmur name after name,

With a list of exploits that
brought us to be, through

a terrible beauty they
wrought with hand and back.

Each name follows, quiet,
Immortal sounds from

mouths speaking the same
dreams of the park’s streets.

Worlds change and stay the same,
Wavering with rampart’s flag.

It seems we were born
to murmur name after name.

the rising

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