Roba of the Changes

There coughs the stars
The fading stories quench
Polished wisdom never hence,
Filing down clipped rows.

Grasp the bracketing particles
Rasping night air with a stare.
Row out to daunting crags where
A fallen rock is participle

To all sown seeds that flare
On windy paths now silent.
Vestiges reform our efforts curved
Out the stream’s muddied glare

Where past is ground pumice cleared
For fortresses hiding where relics seared
The story of convoluted traces
That bring in private a savior feared.

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