Alone
we file smiles
somewhere
among whisper—
the
created
silences
in our rustic
hands also
help the
running
water freeing
warm’s muttering
of this hour’s
season
-al architecture. Something
with of
wings is
a deity to the
sole watcher
watching
a collected version, a
wise example of self
in the intuitive
sound
the piano of crows
pulls from a moment
delicate and profound—
why
we’re here is why
death spirals
eyes into
closed doors
hiding
memory
to open
in the nostalgia
of a pulled secret
independent
of
language
and intuitive belonging.
This is cyclic. A break
in what collides
shows
an eventual peace
within even temperaments…
applaud those watching
those applying
gaze
amid what warms and
reassembles
reaffirms
what the body does
when
alone
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