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Blue-Crested Cry

 We’re through, we’re through, we’re through, we’re through, we’re through
and – flanking, now, the edges of our schism –
it seems your coldness and my idealism
alone for all this time have kept us true.
Credulous I and hedonistic you: opposed, refracting angles of a prism who challenged sense with childish skepticism – and every known the bulk of mankind knew.

Poem by Jennifer Reeser
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