Had I been perfect,

 

lived outside my shaken head,

lived in the willows, swaying,

given all my gifts to God:

 

the answer is in everything

unclear, underground. No

book maintains a call.

 

To forget is all,

To forget is all.

The origins and endings

 

simple, 

lovely, 

submerged.

 

I have been perfect

and I will 

fall 

 

again. 

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