As I view anew writings from the past
penned by myself through lace of years
I look into the mirror of my collected words
and find time births an array of fullness.
Each fresh visit whispers of impending chill
nudges gathering of fuel stoked by caring
honors connections, rustles into being
my own story to ward off desolation.
My many selves endowed with emotions
transcribed through flow of visible ink
may be viewed as written in pure blood
recently drawn from vibrant veins.
There is comfort in recollections
announcing family and friendships
times of love and the energy of conflict
amid the arrival of unexpected grace.
The art of nestling into new born space
triggered by scents, sounds, words
placed in memory to note collected lore
eases awaiting waves of loneliness.
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