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Beyond Elsewhere
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So much lost sky.
You dream of being the exception, but are
just the rule: the first love empties your
bag of marbles to fill it with stars, but this
brutal flash carries within the lightning that
ultimately blows them all out, one by one.
Love tucks you in bed one last time and
gives you the big night kiss.
Why?
Why doesn’t passion escape the tidal
movement, the law of opposites, the back
and forth between shadow and light, the
imperturbable mechanical decline of all
things here below?
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