it is fitting
we translate
what we can
across lost time
grey allows this to
be: neither dark nor light
rain has no power in this
how did you write: this echos - monde
where another takes our
place, better thoughts spring
out from such then
returns to where the grey is
this letter you write you
write to me and i read in
the echos
the silent
process of craft as it is engineered in us
by whoever it is that holds us captive in
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