It glowed blue between me and the blinding sun.
I don't believe it cared I had nothing clever left to say.
Atmospheric layers of changes changing continually
Would have erased their own patterns eventually.
We own that, I suppose, the capacity for continual changing,
The incapacity to cease creating and erasing, including
Each other, including skies of blue, including you, including me,
Excluding nothing, magic, all our incompletions vanishing completely.
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