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There is a faint line
visible only to me
between who I am
and the place things go
to be immortal
and that line,
under the microscope,
is a dense forest of words
where meanings get lost
to be found
and each joy and sadness
lives a thousand lives

and those who know
know to return
like pilgrims
who will be cleansed,
and with reverence
to the madness unique
to the craft, more
than to what glory
might be waiting
on the other side.

“Time for Gold” by photographer Sebastian Kahl


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