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| jo'b |
where it still has a voice,
change preceding change
under a scattered sky
on a finger-cold day,
sentient beings on the ground
trying to love their lives,
more than a few fully conscious
of their own rarity in the universe,
hurtling through the void,
grateful for the miracle of each other
and a warm hand to hold,
hearing the wind in the oaks,
and knowing this is a sacred thing.
