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Crisis is a Hair

 Crisis is a Hair
Toward which the forces creep
Past which forces retrograde
If it come in sleep

To suspend the Breath
Is the most we can
Ignorant is it Life or Death
Nicely balancing.
Let an instant push Or an Atom press Or a Circle hesitate In Circumference It -- may jolt the Hand That adjusts the Hair That secures Eternity From presenting -- Here --

Poem by Emily Dickinson
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things