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upon the hearth of mice and men
a lonely prophet stirs his stew
adds brittle love and uncooked hope
a pinch of woe, enough for two

and in his dreams he stirs the world
lives hundred lives, yet touches few
for when he stirs, he stirs alone
his hearth his guilt, regret his stew.

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… written for Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub. Grab your poem and come join the fun! Happy Anniversary, dVerse!

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