Such wonder brims as cannot be fleeting issuance from me. Mine the stilly yield to it: emptied hands heart made fit Even breath withheld for what (instant or aeon?) holds as caught.Skip to next paragraph
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Until - ah loosened grasp on grace - time re-assumes its treadmill course. A path, familiar, lies ahead: a house awaits, a supper's spread. Voices will speak: in an unstrange tongue sharing with ease what's daily done. Pleasantries - laughter - All's as before with the same bread broken, the safe-latched door.
Or - is it? Is it! Can anything quite be again as it was? Once split by light.