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April 20, 2012

Greatpoetrymhf's Weblog

I sit on the mountain top.

The song rolls over and through me.

The sound shapes the drum that I become.

It resonates as it takes me into the hum.

The drum is red around the rim.

The Northern Lights dance within.

I become the drum.

My sound echos over the mountains

Over the valleys

Into my past with its dark alleys.

It heals the pathway from there to today.

I am the drum.

The wind has full play.

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