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Whisper! Yes? Whisper me, whisper you.

Not even, if thou should shout, would it matter.

For the fools wander and play, in the darkness that surrounds, their tiny little worlds.

You send out your words, be they great, be they small. On wings of electricity.

Words filled with anger, terror, joy, happiness, pain. Matters not! For they all fall.

Fall they do, don’t you see? Don’t you hear? The sound, they make, as they crumble.

Crumble, and fade to ash, upon touching the ground.

The great and mighty crashing, of a generation’s words can be heard,

if but anyone bothered to listen.

You, me, we, all are the silent ones. We speak our hearts for the worlds to know.

But none hear or see. All turn their backs on the noise.

That is what is heard…when we speak.

-From Libro tenebrarum Susurrat

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