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beholdingstill

what closed to my eyes
the certain return
of all I have given –
all I have known
is kept in this endless
cavern of heart
where night never fades
without promise of light
to shine on the writing
the carving of names
held into place
by speaking aloud
of those who are gone
but honor me still
as an echo of some
intangible proof
seasons and who needs
a reason to keep
what became of a story
written of me

. . .