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rural road

of the ways
I’ve come
submitting
to the wonder that is life
swept from ‘neath the bed
from ‘round the lights
of miracles
to grace revealed
the place I know again
of worlds within
the falling
(let me fall)

recalled anew
by morning –
the brokenness of proof
as spilled along the mantle
to the floor –
yellow birds are whispering
just beyond the break
forgiven now the night
for letting go

. . .