Literature seeps, reaches our immortal,
species' Seed-sprouts; tapping our primordial.
Voice shuns Desire's cold, written speech--
Words painting bright, our species waning bleak;
Voice tastes not, the news' conversations:
Tonque licks, the olds' tribe-relations.
Soul sighs! Timed-strewn, voice-pearls form.
Through mind-heart will, our species reborn
Human being's scrawled, Earth-speech?
Epitaph for Soul, long breached.
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