I chose to believe one day
Though clearly not today
My memory will return to me
In all its pre-and-post array
A harvest from its decay
A few sticky seeds will stay
Put where I put them
In the stomach of a swan
Or in some imagined ground
Out there in the rocky fields
Of my awareness of remembrance
Patiently waiting for the perfect day
What's left of me remains
Counting on the sun and rain
And look behold they come
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