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68 Slowly Dark Comes I sit by the fire we have built Touching each spike of flame, watching Light slide along the wall. I ask for nothing in this silence, In this endless dusk, As dark drags its heels home. A moon sits up straight, Shaped so strange and unlike last night’s. Who would count the craters To find the same nakedness, To find the same light. Broken music is the moon’s. Come closer, come closer, The dark will be here soon enough. We will huddle like in a warren, Keeping warm against the promise Of the darkness, the night And the light to follow. ...

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