To encircle it without ever looking at it,
to tell its story without
ever mentioning or describing it,
while knowing that it informs everything you do.
To say it so softly, to let it slip
gently from your tongue
To move with slow, deliberate movements,
each following the other
with an almost painful grace
To sweep away
everything unnecessary
Everything harmful, everything
that stands in the way
To glimpse its face
out of the corner of your eye
To just barely register
its sound
To stand right on the edge
To accept, rather than fear,
disappearing
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