there are too many. one for each person who has been my person - if only for a short time. one for each person who has moved me. i do long for them. if not consciously, then every moment i feel a misconnection. they are gone, i do fear it. why must things keep going and why cant we just be still for a minute to breathe. to think? to deflect if need be. and more importantly to get what we are feeling. to gather it up and hold it, nurse it. before i must give it away. its overwhelming in a sense - beautiful of course. a mystery of seasons.
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