Purpose

I was once her.

With emotional decompressions
and cognitive reticulations -
sifting planets to aerate
the unreachable…

Her own understanding of heaven.

Scattering matter
(for what is the matter?)
while the silence slid by -
sipping time
between each sniff
and every pause in
the wind’s disjointed fervour.

She waits, though
there will be no answer.

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