How can a man like me understand one who is warm? 
I know no warmth. 
Nor do I have a clue about living, 
or life, 
or any of this grandiose love of work. 
I am the stone, 
which falls silently through water, 
and creates no movement. 
I am a part of the silent sand. 
Our voice goes unheard, 
as you enjoy the refinement of our demise. 

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