Wisdom, the secret constantly moving like scattered ashes in the wind
Smoke of ancient shamans wind in and out of the turned autumn leaves with wisdom
Unable to speak but able to feel with hands not touching
Mouth sewn shut with a poison needle and thread
A mute, unable to speak over the howling winds of ridicule
Mouth stuffed with pages of years of research
Eyes blinded by arrogance
The bitter taste of shame fills the mouth
Wisdom, forever lost, never to be returned
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