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The magic of that line-
Drawn in crayon-
Calms and excites:
Renders everything else
Meaningless and Infinitely Consequential.
Up* I go
In a swift motion-
to float there,
high,
where meaning and representation
are transcendental.
Only to drift back down,
Gently, rhythmically,
Like a fat, fluffy feather
In a barn stall full
Of day old chicks.
A soft yellow glow,
Sleepily chirping.