The moon stares
its borrowed light,
and burrows into
the dawn.
This lozenge,
like a Eucharist,
melts between
my words.
The moon stares
its borrowed light,
and burrows into
the dawn.
This lozenge,
like a Eucharist,
melts between
my words.
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With all the attention, an embarrassed stare?
A eucharist for an illumined life.
Gerald the Writer 
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