In my solar life, /I dread dull moments of thinking,/ I remind myself, fatigued,/of rules of age and grief/a sudden loss of affect spirit overtaken aboveground./The passing comets snowball, /strong in volume and light/ wrangle in a grind against what’s useful,/ without luxury, or rapture,/ a series of sins devours the mature that stem from others,/this curse that plagues the spirit/guided along ropes in a dim passage

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