At what point
do you bring it around,
cap the spontaneity,
quell the conversation,
put everything neatly within the margins?
About the time a shard of brilliance,
previously withheld,
pokes out,
trying to see its shadow.
A reflection of Punxsutawney Phil,
unsure of the next move,
or just in time, before the sliver,
simply a sharp piece of the puzzle,
launches itself through space and time,
tearing into...
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