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And with each dying breath 

That settles on the breeze,

To dip its head beneath

The horizon that we see,

Our lives become a little fainter

A little thinner to the eye,

And all the things that meant so much

Fall to the ground

Like Autumn’s sigh,

To be replaced by a growth

Whose colours seem,

To weary eyes,

A little paler in their hue

A little less impactful,

And as we mourn

The loss of souls

Whose touch we feel as if it were our own,

We step ourselves,

A little closer,

To the hole they left