It seems that the one I passed my message to one who does not understand.

It seems that the one I passed my message to one who does not understand.  MThe voices of dead poets speak as prophetsa.  Messages from a past time to a future timeg. To a timeless timei.  Poetry and Art are coded messages sent by the cunwitting to the unknowing. From known time and place to unknown time and place.
Let confusion not be our epitaph as we walk this cracked and broken path...  The ground is muttering, the wind is speaking, the stars are flashing messages.  All is coming alive.

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