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Behind the walls that shield a history
from unavoidable rebirth by fire,
another point in time, another chance
to beg unveiling of the mystery
we never spoke (yet seeming to inspire)...
now buried here within a circumstance.
In honesty, we find the sacred peace
that longs, carefully nurtured, for its place
among the violence of what is real;
in candor, we can seek some small release
that lives and breathes within a moment's grace
and wanting nothing more, can simply heal.
When we require the situational
to dictate future courses of the days
that fill with what we can not hope contain,
assure ourselves that future is the fall
we saw inside that moment's truthful gaze,
we live in flux and pray but to restrain...
But circumstance is all there is to hold
an anxious foot from leaving solid ground
and falling, wingless, into the unnamed.
Perhaps there is more wonder to behold
in distance, looking out instead of down
in wonderment, some dignity reclaimed.
Too late to turn, too late to close the hand
that beckoned, needing more than it could ask
to just deserve (believing it was so).
Our duty may not be to understand,
require the removal of the mask,
but just be comforted, allowed to grow.
The fear, while separation seems the key,
lies in the beauty of uncertainty.
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