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The last star before the dawn
fights all the majesty of a brilliant sunrise.
The last remnant of the night,
drowning in an over saturated sky.

When the curtain calls come
to usher everyone off stage,
the last star before the dawn,
through morning haze and window panes,
takes its final bow
#19 in my Year One collection, from notes on 3/7
A shutter clicks in flashing colors,
recording the imaginary.

The wheezing voice of tales unfolding,
now hoarse from an endless retelling.

Capture what we can't remember,
make up everything that's left.

A faint, but echoed, call to arms
that no on hears on set
#18 in my Year One collection, from notes on 2/26
"When am I?"
Calls a young man's voice.
"Once, I could freeze time.
Once, I could read every detail."

"When am I?"
Calls the old man's voice.
"I've lived a full life,
but I know not how long that is."

"When am I?"
Whispers the westbound wind.
"The sun rises faster every morning
and night only falls when I blink."

"When am I?"
Asks no one at all.
Silently studying history
whilst looking for riddles undiscovered.
#17 in my Year One collection, from notes on 2/12
This is a stroll through the valley
of the last Forgotten God.
The walls, overgrown, throw shadows
that whisper when the wind blows

Step gingerly
through the maze ahead.
The temple is fragile
and the slumber of the unknown
is a blessing

After time's cruel neglect,
pray at the empty dais.
The only lost
is losing faith again
#16 in my Year One collection, from notes on 1/31
Down a
forgotten lane
in a canyon of corn,
a blue ban calls new life to this
old world.

Gather
around the stall.
Don't let the foal's whiney
be an unanswered question to
live ears.

Shaky
legs held us all
when we were fresh and blind
Take pride in teaching to see a
new soul
#15 in my Year One collection, from notes on 1/21
Exhaustion drip the night away,
bleeding the clock of every second.
Drifting on a raft of dimlit dreams,
down a river of wayward thoughts.
Stopping and starting.
A blurry room fades
to backlit black.

Float,
sink down with every breath
#14 of my Year One collection, from notes on 1/10
A broken haze drifts down
form a gray and weary sky.

Who has cast this blanket?
It is dampening our light.

Lift this dull affair.
Bring the sun back to our lives

End this tiresome evening
of speckled windows and soft sighs
#13 of my Year One collection, from notes on 1/3
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