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wherestill

there was a time I knew
and a time that fell before
some scattered unfamiliar
in the midst of truth
some point when I lingered
stepped from darkness
into light
moved my bed much closer
to the window
gave my life to something
greater than

these pieces I’ve become
at last now fit together
were just waiting this
their moment
to make sense

pages without numbers
ribbons without red
numbers counted backwards
each death the same
awaiting an epiphany
a solitude revival
for the tent to raise
the choir to sing me home

. . .

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