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Steven Nov 2020
what we found there
was a rectangular
patch of light stretched out
against us like a short
blanket we have
long outgrown.

we watched it strain to
cover our heads and toes,
struggle to offer the protection
we forgot to remember.

and in that moment
we were suffused with great
sorrow, a quiet lament for that
starving light that
failed to feed.

so we brought our toes in—
assumed contorted positions—
offered shady reassurances.

and huddled together
beneath that fragile light—that
infinitely fragile light—we
found one last petal of peace
before it surrendered a yawn
and faded into darkness.
Steven Nov 2020
to gaze on thee is burden born,
but not in winter set.

nor yet it’s twin’s return, i fear,
or stares that won’t be met.
it lies in weight of seconds rung,
small gasps in space and time,

when eye is eye, and mine is thine,
when all is intertwined.

that baff’ling fall—so bare—so brief—
that life immersed in life,

is where we lose, and where we’re found:
one nature and one strife.

— The End —