Hail & well
met, my fellow 
traveller, after so long 
on this winding 
road so far from
home. When last we
parted, we proclaimed 
the sky could not
possibly grow
darker, yet here we 
sit, struggling
along the same old 
ruts in different
seasons, new
scourge risen to 
menace our
lands.  Look 
to the dead 
for some solace:
they & their one 
long sentence, begun
at the paps
of the world & 
stretching umbilically
to the final contraction.
Don't think of life
as a test, but instead 
a distraction from 
that final weird of 
knitting beginning 
to end, when death yes
will die & so will
the sky & what remains
is just a longing for
anything at all.        

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