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a dance with memories
Light fractures on thought. Motion devours silence.
Form becomes feeling, and feeling — a blade.
Order dissolves in the pulse, grain and shadow conspire.
Truth hums through chaos, its voice — neither kind nor cruel.
What’s real bleeds slow, a tremor beneath control.
Perfection shatters.
Meaning flickers, then disappears.
Only presence remains —
feral, lucid,
alive.








































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