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And I mourned, let not the rotten watch my fall, for they’ll hang oranments on doors.

And I mourned, 

the eclipse of buried dreams..

the places I’ll never go..

the lips I’ll never kiss..

And I wept,

what never was..

the yearning for the never-ridden star, and never-started fire..

the longing for the unwritten poetry, and the unwhittled hunger..

Oh soul behold! 

Let the sorrow in, but not despair..

for water no more absorbs salt..

and seeds ache for ripeness elsewhere.

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