Existence is Assured

The lake was turning black
From the grayness of the storm.
The fire was kept burning
In the Franklin until morn’.

At night the trees were whipped
By the rain with a furious sound,
One crackled and then fell,
It bounced and shook the ground.

That was one tree whose falling
Someone indeed has heard
And with this short poem,
Existence is assured.

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