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Love drifts like a feather caught in a breath—
weightless, wanting,
dancing on the edge of a hand
that can not close.
It whispers in languages unlearned,
its meaning only shadows,
its promise only air.
Life hums like a broken string,
the sound neither song nor silence.
Each step sinks into shifting ground,
each moment stitched by threads unseen,
fraying as fast as they form.
Death waits, not as an end,
but a mirror smeared with fog—
what lies beyond the glass?
It is both answer and question,
a door that neither opens
nor remains shut.
Together, they spiral,
a trinity of chaos and calm.
The heart beats its uncertain rhythm,
knowing only this:
to be is to fall
without knowing where.
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