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Never saw the sea and all the days are gone. A handful of miles to drive but they proved too much and it remained out of reach and there was no reprieve from dolorous anguish in endless crashing cycles. Autumn hovers in the wings, nights grow teeth, screaming lunatic chill mania, and the hours of darkness stretch their shadows tugging them along. In an under space there is a sound so loud and impossible to hold, it goes on and on, subsuming, consuming, enveloping the heart until it drowns, in a black sea that is just as unseen.

This is the now. Catalog for the then. Look back and see what it was. On the eve. Black Swans sail above us, out of reach, and the world erupts in their titanic shadows. Unfathomable change, incomprehensible chance, an unwinable hand, an impossible dice roll, snake eyes with fangs to bite, and tremble at the thin, empty sky, the swans are gone, but touched by their shadow, nothing is the same as it was.

Decades ahead of us, decades of this dull anxiety, and the shudders come like on a winter night with no light in sight. Trembling, squirming bones inside of the flesh cage, hear the spine crack, snap, curl, shuddering in the cutting wind blown over white fields brittle with frost. Put one damaged foot in front of the other and hope the ground doesn't give way again and swallow the world whole in an endless, bottomless, black abyss.

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September 2011
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