In the alchemy
of the world's dream
nothing to climb to
nothing to cling to
or hide behind
the thread of time
tenacious on its path
like a comma paused over apostrophe.
And the birdsong whispers in the breeze
everything is as it was in the beginning
there's no need to do anything but breathe,
and be, silencing shots
ringing across the world,
waters break, waters deep
poised above the shadow
leaving reflection, like a magic
mirror on the wing.
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