Force never succeeds. It fails.
It mimics, mirrors, mocks, and mourns.
It holds no water on the soul,
but the soul of the feet of any kind
holds the hammer.
A whispering shriek —
small soul, small soul —
rises, rolls, and sweeps down
the mountain of fallen force.
The sentence is passed:
Force has failed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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