Coming together or falling apart,
Our stunned stupor retraced over and over.
The parts that pull and push and pry
Endlessly cry havoc.
They fry our retinas and blow apart
With slip-shot gunmetal silence.
This gift that gives and keeps on
Swelters collective memory into a blizzard
And rains down on our existential moments,
Foreplay for the replaying future.
Our past a magnified tack of wit and woe.
We grow the seeds from dying plants
And like small gods, we begin anew.
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