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A Sonnet I Think |
| On the starting line of the race, During a day clear of all thought, I glanced up to the canvas of space, And froze from a sight I never sought. A crack had formed in the quilted white, Through which I saw forever, yet knew not why. A gun sounded, and the others' feet took flight, But I raced inside to the desert behind the sky. The sun became a smoky, stenciled circle, This scene was chilled, my core grew hotter. And it was not till I quit jumping every hurdle, That the sifting dunes turned to rippling water. I could see the truth and began to run again, Knowing there was no way I could not win. |