Forged

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Silent thunder pounding wind
Eternal presence waning thin
Stoic is the will of one
Set among a thousand rung
Trust the path of the blazing sun
Forge your self until there's none
Will it, shall it, be forth come

Posted by Unknown at 2:19 AM  

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Hi folks, I'm a software development manager. I've worked with computers most of my life. I write a poem a day about whatever strikes my fancy. I hope they make you smile.