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All Things Clear
( More, than Ever )
it is no longer about who or what I do not have, or have so recently lost,
but of a far deeper, and more meaningful Embrace, within The Arms
of every Blessing now held in a Symphony of Moments that
colors this Sunset of My Days left here on Earth . . .
and of Those I imagine still, with such everlastingly beautiful sadness,
I can only hope They are quite safe, and quite sound, and Their every breath
fills Their sky with unspeakable Wonder, and a Peace like no other tells Them
that Their Days will be long savored, and abundant, and spent so very
far away from harm, and well within the absence, of fear . . .
yet alas I am diminished, for in the purpose, place or proximity once
filled by Their glorious Presence, there endures only a whisper of an echo
of What Was, so, time and again I turn to Remember, where They dwell,
whose Memory holds nothing less, than The Best Days, of My Life . . .
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