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At night you can tell the stones remember when light piling up fed from mountains, grew strong --now its glare can devour the sun though there's still some shadows left. They grow wild now, close to the ground endangered, dragged too weak to hide by themselves --they too remember when the morning higher and higher disappeared --in the dark what would soon be the Earth and some lost flash falling into light and splendor --you can tell by the weight, each stone still heats your hand --at night their eyes too are useless and stones remember this remember the first cloud come back to start a breeze again --head on and from your heart its shadow so close to the sky to the only distance you know the here to there that never reaches without some great heaviness and care.
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