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The Moon

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A silver platter, growing, forcing its light through
The darkness
Consuming
Until there is only darkness
But there!
He comes again
Strong as before
Alight the path ahead
Through ominous woods, down desolate roads, up to the door untouched
Searching
Finding
The hidden
The isolated
And wrapping around their shoulders
Touching them so soft, they cannot feel him
"I am here, I am here"
And dark gives way to light
And light gives way to dark
And here he comes again





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