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At night you can tell the stones
remember when light piling up
fed from mountains, grew strong
--now its glare can devour the sun
though there's still some shadows left.

They grow wild now, close to the ground
endangered, dragged
too weak to hide by themselves
--they too remember when the morning
higher and higher disappeared --in the dark
what would soon be the Earth
and some lost flash falling into light
and splendor --you can tell

by the weight, each stone
still heats your hand --at night
their eyes too are useless
and stones remember this
remember the first cloud come back
to start a breeze again --head on
and from your heart its shadow
so close to the sky
to the only distance you know
the here to there that never reaches
without some great heaviness and care.

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