once a weight's been lifted
it aches out of habit
as it's last wisps leave
it's fingers outstretched
and then
you're able to realize the tremendous pain you'd gotten used to
the overwhelming sorrow
so ingrained
we didn't even know there were walls
"in the poetry of the poet and in the thinking of the thinker, there is always so much worldspace to share that each and every thing - a tree, a mountain, a house, the call of a bird - completely loses its indifference and familiarity." - martin heidegger
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