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Where Nothing Happens

here, between myself and myself,
God dwells when 
He flees the world.
I found Him once
in a forgotten loaf of bread 
on the steps of a hospice,
in an old woman asking forgiveness
for simply living.

He did not ask who I am.
He touched my brow
and retreated back into the wound.

we do not think.
we defend ourselves from thoughts
as from a fire burning within.

Copyright © Florin Lacatus

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Book: Reflection on the Important Things