There is a dash with a dark border
indicating that we didn't have time
for waiting, for being the way we 
might have imagined; perhaps it's the

part of speech that collected I with you
and possibly others, first second third
persons who together, may not go the
desired speed of the individual, infinite

time and distance chip away at the edges of 
the passively voiced design; accelerate
past the future and into the present,
as the meditative spiritual traditions

ritually require; and yet you are not of
that time, neither are we, so we read 
philosophy and pretend to understand
the fact of unknowable facts, the truthless 

truth that was lying over the horizon
while we searched for the sun by starlight
believing we made it rise at dawn
wishing we hadn't lost the constellations.

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