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27 lines
821 B
Text
27 lines
821 B
Text
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Cultivator
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2022-05-20
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***
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We're coming up on the end of the Eschaton, you and I,
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and for almost a year I've planned for next month to die.
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But it's impossible to plan for every contingency.
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What are we to do if May passes and I'm still living?
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I've kept this faith secret in me, learned every way to hide
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and still let through a sliver of this lightning kept inside.
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There's so much love you've planted in this garden that's my body
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that perhaps, if I stand still enough, others will see my wings.
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In the birds that convened outside my window
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gathered in a flock until they took flight,
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in the blackened tree branches that scraped
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against an ashen gray sky,
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in the first blooms and blossoms
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of my garden in birthing spring:
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if it was good and beautiful, I saw you in everything.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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