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12.11.2021
00:20 (what is sleep)

-In one life I was a sunrise; I spoke in harvest hues, playing hide and seek with wide-open expanses until my brother, the moon, began his nightly reign.

-In one life I was your favorite book; I lay dormant for months, coming to life when your fingertips skimmed my pages; the day ended with a contented sigh and my gentle placement on your nightstand.

-In one life I was a farmer; I navigated the rhythms of Mother Earth's caprice: her soil was my blood.

-In one life I was an owl; I stayed vigilant when all were abed; in late winter I sought out a mate to defray the loneliness of this bitter landscape; I danced for her in the blue hours of the day.

-In one life I was a sycamore tree; my branches blessed you with abundant shade on unhurried August afternoons; my trunk gave you shelter from the cold on starless February nights when you went sledding.

-In one life I was a pop song; my lyrics brought joy to people in dance halls and shopping malls; my notes heralded first dances at weddings, but also gave rise to somber slow dances at funerals: all pain is remembrance, after all.

-In one life I was a poet; I tried to trace the marvels of this world in my notebook, but was found wanting.

-In one life . . you stayed. These halls resounded with the laughter of a boy and a girl, one blue-eyed, and one brown, and both with your smile.

-In one life we grew old together.

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