A Ripple of Dead Wind

A ripple of dead wind crosses the sea.
The gravestones sing at grim concord at last.
When sorrowful notes come to hit the key,
A mournful song returns in likes they cast.
We gravel at their grounds with yearning tears.
They laugh at our wishes for their revive,
At how they stay our piece for turning gears,
When our retreat is what they truly strive.
While we ponder our thoughts behind in past,
Our past pray our reliance here to cease.
As they pass on when we move on at last,
Their chains come loose through our painful release.
That faithless day when we fail to arrive
May be the day for both our brighter lives.

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