Monday, January 07, 2013
at home in the field
Stranded on a horizon
He is the field. Without
ever asking, no longer
hoping to achieve.
What was once careful
is now only expanse;
what moved, still.
Stranded, as a horizon.
He will become nothing
that the field is not.
As if it was never meant
to end:
All demarcations
are the sum of his doubts.
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