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By jamesaguiar - Posted on 17 February 2010

On a distant horizon
Beyond the mind's eye
Is a tiny town
Where quiet people live.
They know no hope,
But sleep without despair.
Having no future,
They exist without care.
There is no disease.
Nothing needs cure.
There is no breath
In the reality of death.
They await the blast 
Of the trumpet last.
If it never comes,
They are at peace being done.
No race need be run.
In eternity:
They float in Limbo's certainty-
Consummation not devoutly to be wished-
Nothing is missed.
They stand on the hill,
Bound to each other
By earth, mother.

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