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Conceptual Beach Library and Archives
Living is an inconsistent friend. How
funny to have found an equal, playing
time against my rhythms. Walking
is the beat of my abyss, a crystal
sequence weaves its way to end.
Death has met you. What it says,
can you hold it ‘til I join? Your eyes
were seeing, seeing constancy. Open
to a beauty you could carry when living-
time could meet the love you need.
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