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Looking up through my bedroom window last night, 11.30 or so, up into the glowing Solstice to those painful stars, so many fathoms away, lonely, me, they, twinkling out into aquatic airiness, I sit on the edge of my bed to keep them company, feel their company, a while.

Far away though you are, my flickering friends, you need not strain to mean limitlessness for me, any longer.  Yes, you’re far, but far still means here or there, doesn’t it.  And the space that holds you, though so oceanic, no longer needs pose as infinity for me, for even space has its full extent.  And life even, who holds things in all the directions there are, though so ancient, no longer needs to mean eternity for me, nor promise that she’ll carry me on, beyond myself.

I’ve found the scent now, little stars, that haunting scent of the unlimited.  And not from afar, but from very near it comes, from inside this little secret place of ours, where the instant I am not me, I be you.

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