gentle somethings

in early day
the slow reveal
of one lone space
out on the edge

and 'forest murmurs'
now recalled
each thought a hatchling
i must fledge

for new is ever
new to us
and old is just
survivor bias

is *the* reward
for those who hold
to being pious

gentle somethings
whispered far
trenchant vapors
we disperse

we come we go
we run we stop
and we're not sure
just which

is worse

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