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Eden's garden held a glow that trembled on the planet's crust. As eras marched, they drained the force, defied the flow, embraced the dark. . .
We boast we've reached an awesome peak. We juggle wars and cyberspace, and tend to scoff at simple things. A puppet-stringing finger wags, our placid faces nod in rhythm; left, right, left, right. Climb the stairs and punch the clock; tick, tock, tick, tock. Dotted lines and polished smiles; brains decaying, auras fading, fashion pumpkins in a row. We may have gained new heights of power. Somehow, though, we've lost the light. Copyright 2002 Laryalee Fraser
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