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Musing: 85. World, breath, disinherited us, even

Musing
85. World, breath, disinherited us, even
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“85. World, breath, disinherited us, even” in “Musing”

85.

World, breath, disinherited us, even

Before we claimed to live, and slowly

We have tried to build back up what we have lost

In this ruined globe. Distracted

And unapprehending, we, lovers in the skeltered

Light, clutch at the sun, but it too is

A dying star. Roses die into

Eternity. We crave fixity, a love

To last past the trap of time. We are

An oversight, a draft in great sadness

Passed as fully formed. The accident

Of our touch might be a tenderness.

How do we leave the tombs of sleep behind

The door we make the window we shape?

Next Chapter
86. A certain happiness exists despite
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