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softlycome

what part of me
is without place -
but for my ways
remembered

will they need a map
to find me -
here I am

on paths untouched
by fortune
stones
the age of God
would speak to me
of heaven
coming down

as close
these eyes to memorize
the mystery of one -
a droning song
of blush
against the night

reminders
of another time
I slept in fields of snow
don’t need a dream
– tis all the proof
I know

the distant sound of
falling stars
becomes a lullabye
of cricket serenade
– an angel sigh

to take the breath
of wonder -

where hush relearned my kiss
as ancient lives
aglow beneath the pines

. . .

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