High Night

August 27, 2010
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When silence reigns,
when even the moon has set
and each breath of air stings,
cold and pure
from the stillness of high night
When any light thrown carelessly
seems profound
When I can reach back for my memories
caredul not to let my shaking hand
knock over my mug of common sense
on its way to the black shelf
Reaching for memories
scarcely remembered correctly

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