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...except the sudden restlessness of a January night.

Only at midnight

When the hands of the clock stood up tall

Did we guess how large

The world was


When the round curve

Of the moon in unbroken deeps

Shivered the scudding clouds

And burst past branches

With a revelation:

The loneliness betwixt

Might be, not in her,

But us. It may be we

(An old deep legend) who

Are broken, while the world

Dances through unspoken

Atmospheres and

Beauty confounds us

By being good.


It is not the dead that

Walk at this deep birth

Of dawn, but the Living

And all things shake loose

Our words, brimming to

Being, and sow us

Speechless with wonder.

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On June 10th, 2011 04:06 am (UTC), (Anonymous) commented:
Did you write this? Because it's sooo beautiful. I think the first stanza is the best for evoking so much in so few words.
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On June 11th, 2011 01:33 am (UTC), pemberlybudgie replied:
I suppose...or rather it wrote itself, in my head one night, and I was so very lazy as to not refine it much, and stick it up anyway!

thanks :)
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