Let me be lonely to find friendship in a word;
Echoes of dances soft spoken to a lyre.
Whispers of stardust and passions overheard
From shadowed voices all gathered round a fire.
The script connects thought. The faces are unknown.
The flow sears through with its cold persistent path.
Thus speaks creation with meaning as mine own.
I meet my maker in pre-writ epitaph.
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