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After the Storm
It was cold,
 it was chaos,
 and then
 it was calm.
 
 After the storm
 there was nothing else to do
 but pick up the pieces
 of glass—serene and sharp
 —lying in snow.
 
 What else broke?
 Why look
 for ramifications irreparable?
 Regardless, I dip foot into boot.
 
 Time for a wander.
 
 It had been so long
 since last I felt 
 the calm, the prong
 of solitude.
 It was wrong,
 I must admit,
 to ignore, to forget,
 to not have wandered earlier.
 
 So solitude and I,
 we sang marvelous melodies,
 as we walked without company,
 through the snow, 
 laughing and admiring 
 all that was lost. 
 
 Isn’t it funny?
 Picking up the pieces,
 placing them,
 one by one,
 to create something new.
 Something magnificent.

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