Even though the Sun has set I believe
in its resurrection. Light has been exiled
from the earth, the Moon hangs and spends
its time reflecting. I am like the spent
seed, the opened flower, I cannot believe
in the infinitude of heaven. We're exiled
from the abstract senselessly, we're exiled
from the outer spheres. I sit and spend
the night remembering her have a belief
in believing. But how best is exile spent?
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