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Apr 2016
In the deep, uncertain night the strangers met,
Unseeing, unknowing, unthinking-dulled brain and senses,
Through the porous shadows and tangled foliage they crept
Stumbling over fallen trees and broken-down fences
Their hatred binding them, root to root,
In the mediating light of the silvered moon;
Rotten barks covered in fungi, dried twigs cracking underfoot;
Reaching the village outskirts they emitted a painless moan
And stumbled on. Slow breezes drifted over their flesh, sun-driven
Investigative fingers inspecting their souls, medicating pain.
Memory restored, childhood relived, time rendered fission,
Their fears gliding away in the quietly-falling rain.

Striving through the bluster of life, together or apart,
We return to where in life we made an imperfectly remembered start.
In the long journey through life, physically or mentally, we return to where we began.
Written by
Stanley Wilkin  greenwich
(greenwich)   
570
   Denel Kessler
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