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And now we are 4

Please tell me, winter moon or god or sun-at-dawn,
how am I to possess this
one
beating heart
two
exhausted arms
three
tight breaths –  intake, release,
the pause between –
four
aging limbs

and bring to fruition
three
small beings
each
to
each
to
each
in the effulgent
and Deserved Joy
of Life Unfolding

while I
my(self)
am an etching incomplete
no center
no touch
portrait of a Solitude

a more generous god
reveals
only during those
last few
precious… slow… breaths.

Tell me,
how shall I be
their marbled wisdom
and warm-ember-hearth

when all I know
is wind?

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