I want

The tree which falls in the forest
With no-one to hear – may be silent
But the blade which slices reality in two
Cuts through its own existence,
The form of its victim,
Held up, naked on its edge,
For all eyes to see,
Impaled on its own undeniable solidity,
Jerked on the edge of the cold steel moment
From the warm waters of non-existence.

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