The Bell of Frozen Seconds
No hammer strikes this lip of blackened bronze,
But thoughts of what the heart has left behind;
It hangs where once the summer’s golden swas
Were tethered to the motion of the mind.
A single toll, and every bird is still,
Suspended like a jewel in the air;
The water ceases flowing down the hill,
And leaves a sudden silence everywhere.
The soldier stands with sword half-drawn and cold,
The mother’s tear is caught upon her cheek;
A story that is stopped before it’s told,
In language that the living cannot speak.
The ringer walks through statues made of breath,
Within a world that mimics holy death.
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