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"Smoke Stacks"
The first rays of morning
awoke the churches and hills
as the smoke stacks expelled
their vapor as aviators of the skies.
Our footsteps along the tracks
sent echoes through the forests,
calling the oak and sycamore
to rise from their patient rest.
Paradigms of steel and wood,
Shake the earth beneath our feet,
calling my name as they
did so many years ago.
As the sun rose above forests,
Above mountains, above nations,
I turned to watch the smoke stacks
As they exhaled for a final time.
