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is the measure of grace
a verse without rhyme
a solitude born
of the staying

a path I remembered
would bring me to here
held by a breath
to your memory

a life before this
was love unaware
the weaving of dreams
into moments
one day

we sat in the still
at the edge of goodbye
sharing the truth
of how the stars shine
and where the wind goes
taking pieces of us

unafraid of the keeping
allowing for love
as heartbeats
to the passing of days

as birth unto light
a heaven intended
to look for us here
in the fold
of always –

a reason
we came
released in the letting –
as verse without

. . .