Rock climbing

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my words have power like thunder in an otherwise quiet night they reach ears miles from their source a crack of light with each ink stain while the message is carried across cities  
The feeling of the brush compares not to the feeling of the stone I know not the true intent of god Yet i persue  The ruse that comes from the hunt The height, the danger  All things fall
I am from the tribe. From the ancestors and animals. My skin betraying the darkness it should be.  I am from the native,  yet I am also from the irish man.  I am from the mix.   
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