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...... Poetry


unless

light breaks past my blinds:
their existence as control is flawed
much as ours is broken into strips of time
stretched between memories that fade
pulling us from where we’ve gone
relentless,
pushing when we are become.


it breaks between these boundaries
radiant Self unto Itself, separate wholeness
no less bright
no less light than light
no less
unless measured
first.




© 2 August 1999, Sugarpie Rabbit | Previously published here
In the Face of Love: The Book of the Beloved
SPR © 14 February 2007, Sugarpie Rabbit