Spring burns,
Fire in the blood.
Old sounds call,
Waking the ancient soul.
It gropes for clear air,
Clearer conscience.
Simplicity of survival,
Harsh truth of the untamed.
Firelight dancing shadows,
Moonlights frail bones.
Stripped of the inane,
Down to a crows laugh.
Spring burns,
Turning my blood.
Old sounds call,
Straining my chains.
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