in his condition neverending
not rare but normal one
it was his body there. and it was meat
and as all the pieces came together
after a great deal of many years,
he was whole again. he was person
then morning came and stole away
the lights that shone their footsteps
holding hands.
and shattered glass that cut through flesh
and bone and heart,
and all his pieces of this world
alone
no firm relation to reality,
that grip which once would matter all
before crystallization. he was shattered meat,
he was body.
.
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