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Eventually, memories settle down;
Later still, perhaps, go back to sleep.
Life cannot hold so much of life for long,
Yet now I hold it dancing in my hands.
Though everything is now, now is not;
Each moment dances in a sea of light.
People were and will be, never are;
Present is a glass through which we wonder.
Everywhere are ghosts that dance in dreams
Rounded by the curvature of time.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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