Topography teaches us,
As abrasions are learned,
That contusions are blood
Trying to find the sum of the parts.
So we still read dirt.
Why did we think our trees,
Our grasses would sink our last
Ambitions? A burn
becomes the sky
To the soil of water, wind at loss
At loss still in the loam.
You can walk at night, never run,
The lights that do not follow you
Do not follow what you
Do not think you
Do not know.
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