Those of you who study books and learn from scribe and scroll
Will find rich fodder buried deep within the wounded soul.
Drink deep my friends from hearts inked black, as black as chunks of coal.
Now feel the ache that tears their gut, and doesn't let them sleep. Without a break, the mind will spin as stomach acids seep.
Drink from their cup, and break their bread, and then behold their eyes.
Hear with your gaze, see with your ears, the soul that bleeds and cries.
Then stay. Now dwell, 'til storm has passed, abiding close while floods do flash.
Torrential pain, and broken heart, it feels like all will crash.
Hold faith and tarry still to exorcise the wound's cold icy grasp.
Then linger still as tempest churns, and cleanse the wounds and salve the burns.
And now my friend you are a friend and are forever touched,
By another heart as souls do meet, an another story clutched.
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