In the empty field, in the morning,
the body waits to be claimed.
The spirit sits beside it, on a small rock--
nothing comes to give it form again.
...
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Painful truth: Think of the body's loneliness. At night pacing the sheared field, its shadow buckled tightly around. Such a long journey.
Introspective: Ionliness, death, life, dreams: all I feel here Louise Gluck.