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breath

sometimes
I want
for nothing much more
than to linger
as memory
divine

willed into life
by your favorite dream –
 a faraway
 promise of flight

recalling to place
a touch, a return
of silhouette framed by the light

eternity comes
in visions so clear
as comforts left bare
in their wake

measured by breath –
the rest pulls away
and still I am one
with this truth

love is our life
when nothing remains
but pieces
we left here
this way

in places eternal
worn down by our will
and sworn to the
white floating
essence of still

. . .