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Replying to a comment on:
The wise (Free verse) by richa It is with neither the symmetry
of a wind facing rock, nor
the art of a half-formed thought
that you stand miles from us.
You don't hold in your hand
a butterfly cabbage white and
let go, knowing your grasp
is not waning.
You just know that the still-
water skies cut by its wings
number more
if not for you.
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