First of all, it will not matter.
You and I both know it.
No book will tell of this and even then
No words would really show it.
But half of what we are is sea
and half of us is soil
And beachhead formed at you and me
Where waning tides recoil.
And half of what we were was waking
And half of us asleep
Half my value broke in breaking
The half you did not keep.
And half the circle that we spin
Beneath the horizon hides
A point to end and one to begin
A false truth at our eyes.
And if you knew half of the fire
That in my chest so glows
Then you'd have waited for the sun to rise
And seen the circle close.
For the man you missed, there amidst the dark -
The truth you will not get -
Lies just there beneath the arc
of the landscape's silhouette.
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