In Praise of Time
We marvel that so much
produces only
more of the same,
increased yet
diminished, no two
alike yet never
differing, earth to
soil, glacier to rain,
stardust to morning,
open, filled, wasted,
lost, killing, preserving,
making more, wanting.
* * *
O at the Edges 
I like the sufi thought that all longing is praise of the Beloved.
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I like to think that we all share something in common.
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Bullseye !
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Thank you!
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