Wednesday, February 29, 2012

sonnet seventy one

dust gathers the final few
answers it needed,
to evoke, feel, endure
a thousand more dawns

that so fervently shaped
the greater things to come,
an unraveling, unshelling
of secrets and thoughts

we have so shamelessly
denied - embracing what
is left, owning what we could

of the broken sky and
wounded air that carry
the trace of our happiness.

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