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By the light of the moon

You remember the nights you were young.
The world would layer a dark cloak of dusk
over the sky, awakening the moon and stars.
You would lie roused, choking on the very breath
that kept your body lithe and alive.
You’d recall the time you learned the ground
you walked on could be shoveled into gaping holes;
and you pondered what your body would look like,
dead and white, wearing a crown of flowers.
You’d lay raw and ancient.
Your thoughts courted by a fresh learned reality;
We were born to die.
The window became a stage,
for the black velvet curtains framed the stars.
You’d perch yourself up to align a suitable gaze
out into the vastness of a yellow grit sky.
Only then could you see the world as it truly was;
through the lens of a child.
You taught yourself in those moments to bare
no illusions of the world you’d live in.
You mantled your insight.
We are born to die.
And while we are here
we must live.

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