He is asleep, and so,
I will let him lie
alone, and unafraid of the shadow
unaware of the sun and the rocks
Not seeing a glow or hearing a heartbeat
and another
I will practice silence.
I will hold my form up and out.
We understand little of now.
It is not etchings on walls
(like yesterday claims to be).
It is not our hard-earned speculation
of what may come
My now is warm.
It is understated and it is soft.
And it is mine.
I steep in it
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