Her existence was reduced to a composite
Of scenes:
As consistent as the seasons,
As emperical as the earth she trod on;
As irremediable as memory,
And the obliviation of memory,
Slowly, in the mind.
As to the pattern of droll days and night dreams-
There was no help for it,
No terminus-
Although oftimes she would beseech God and God, and God
And oh my...
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