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Under the awning My head brushes a wind chime And scores the calm night.
I might die today, Which helps me to remember I’m alive right now.
Fearing the first step chaperones the intimate Dance with gravity.
A euphemism, Though designed to be gentle, Robs truth of its bones.
Growth only happens When we leave our minds unpaved By strict certainty.
I’d rather be cursed With being too kind and true Than the opposite.