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Unseen, unfelt, unheard, unknown
past sight and sound, beyond a dream
a changing word, a fleeting trace
vision of years, floats on the wind
Within the clash of budding flowers
I see the truth, I know I am.
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Title caught my eye, and I wasn't disappointed by your poem. Great thoughts here. I agree with Leah - the "clash of budding flowers" line is my favorite. Again, nice work. Thank you for this!
