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For Arya Grace T----- On Her Birthday
Happy no-death men stand triumphant,
a splendour of fates,
barefoot in grasses,
naked and in a fervor of creation,
abyss grandly closed beneath the caravan,
finding the sun's extinct tears solid,
weighting us down no more,
a fever of leisure,
spinning up to the fullest of smiles,
new babies,
new chances, new hope,
the newest of dances.
