In the dark the floor boards rattle
and the wind creaks through the rotting wood.

You live,
you die,
and in between
the fury is the stream the animals drink from
as decay sets in
with the dirt and fog and poison,
the bitter worms,
the swamp swarming inch by inch
from experience
up the clearing
where the structure stood.

It rocked and bent to the bog
saluting it's fierceness and greatness
knowing it was more than it could stand.
Like an old moral,
or an old truth,
sacrificed and let loose
for some great cause,
or some great lie.

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