At this moment and through every moment
this planet which for all we know
is the only one in the vault of darkness
with life on it is wound in a fine veil
of whispered voices groping the frayed waves
of absence they keep flying up like flares
out of hope entwined with its opposite
to wander in ignorance as we do
when we are looking for what we have lost
one moment touching the earth and the next
straying far out past the orbits and webs
and the static of knowledge they go on
without being able to tell whether
they are addressing the past or the future
or where they are ever heard these currents
that are the living talking to the dead
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