Her due-date's running late
Under the great dome of her belly
Her son's still staring at the ceiling
Where the frescoes of his life to come
Are just receiving the final touches
And the scaffolds are being taken down
Until finally his anxious guide and him
Are left alone in the vastness
Of the light of a single flame
His guide urging him to come
Look they're locking up the doors
But he's still taking pictures
With his phone to show
Them all when he gets home
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