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POEM: Seed

There is a tinge of sadness in anything that floats.

In the float is buried the seed of sinking.

There is a tinge of sadness in everyone who sleeps.

The seed of wakefulness lay dormant in a dream.

People think themselves fearless of Poe’s pit–sans the pendulum,

but underestimate the suffocating power of the void.

The pendulum is swift; the pit, relentless

Fear of the dark is fear of what is not.

 


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