There is no becoming.
There is only this verge before
the sudden emptiness of what
may be.
This is where we stand.
We are the subtle edge between
two worlds.
We are the essence of all things
that vanish in a flash of
fierce desire.
We are the secret that lingers in
the silent wonder of the dawn.
We are a myth...left shattered in
the wake of realitys
glance.
And we are the space that gives
form to broken pieces left
unfound.
There is no becoming.
There is only this verge that
stands before us...
Waiting.
Love,
Eric
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