Look back seldomly.
Ultimately true,
They secretly do:
Thought long-ago slain,
Echoes, they don’t cease—
Warrior-wraiths remain.
But iron your crease;
Chiseled-stone, refrain:
The best, duck-maybe,
Is the plane they won
Just ahead o’ thee.
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Poetry: Underland
https://windstrewn.com/2020/09/12/underland/
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