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(“empty bliss”)
Ever we make the loop
From nothing to nothing
The bird’s flown the coop
Only space and time were lost
Advance at any cost
To nothing
Yet some million cells die
Die all the time
Replaced in mid-striving
As I aged and waged
In my house, often caged
To return to blank nothing
One day, old and frail
The folks around the angels hail
A lightning bolt vision of delight
That all these no–things
Placed just right
Mean something!
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