The Other End of The Mirror

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Death defines nothing

but an end

to one path

so the birds have told me

a chamber of instances-

not separate 

dimly awaits at the other side of the mirror

for the hanged man was lost

until I saw him in the shadows

death was me one moment ago

death are my tears filled with confusion

death is the innovation of invitations

for the burning of a candle and relighting of the wick

we are birthed through every vast inch of the world

for our cells possess the same substances as life itself.

so my soul has taught me…

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