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I hold onto moments, small ones.
Some only images that enlighten me.
I go back to moments, old ones.
Some only words that outrun me.
I imagine moments, brief ones.
Some only lightened trails that encourage me.

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Intro for: The Sorrow and the Laughter (Christensen, 2017); P.264 You decide this of dreams and visions: I beheld a young to middle aged teenager, weeping in his mother’s apron. When […]