And there we whisper secrets

to walls and stone,

and forms, moulded by the hands,

as if we never dared to share,

with minds that judge,

condemn and care,

but then our gods begin to fall,

our images will fade,

and after the music we have made,

after the thunder of our words

all we claim as truth is stilled,

then the silence,

then it is your whisper we will hear.

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