enfolded now
now it's getting late
and the thread is tightened
people hurry home
scurry along the streets
seeking creatures that they are
I am being moved
sometimes slowly, sometimes not
breaking open, closing tight shut
it matters not
it matters not
we come and we go
we go and return
and always see the same
yet not, yet not
what has changed?
what have i become?
what will be emboldened
as the blossom falls?
and it is my destiny to fall
a losening grip ...
fragment
of the mystery
that i am
o, the still point
of tragedy
has a silent core
[the wind
bends
the bough]
abide there
my love
encode the silence
until
you are
no more
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