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steady these hands
as easy this part
bruise not this soul
with confusion
cradle me now
in thought unimposed
a silence awaiting
my word

meet with my pen
the sweetest intention –
as once tender lines
are faded away
passed as a feeling to
moments eternal –
reminders of living –
a dying
each day

in the slow wake
of shadows
ommission of self –
in truths written down
with our own
(yes my own)
trembling touch
steady me stranger
return as a season –
remains of divine

easy the passing
of time into grace –
pressing the notion
that nothing is saved
but a place in the center –
a voice unrelenting
steady this beating
of beats
within mine

for birth
yet becoming
the long silent word

. . .