Her heart of darkness is a bird named sorrow.

He flaps his wings once for no

Twice for tears

Three times, just for exercise.




Sorrow flaps twice and the eardrums of those passing by

Are beaten.


Speak no more of lineage

Of those who came first because

They did not make you.


You were born

In the same instance when

A bird was sighing, a man crying, a child


Understanding, but not quite yet

That sometimes you must see the rise and fall

Of your own



To know you are being.

Sometimes you will


And not quite know, and

Other times you will know and just barely



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