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He felt his feet fall
Like sacks of stones
On the steps
Each one weightier now
Than the last,
Fractured fragments of eggshell
Ground through years to dust
Grains now valueless
Beneath his feet
Lost like dreams on the breeze,
Fewer now the footings
In the hidden half-light of
Sight’s flooded memory,
Blinded by his past
Drowning like an aged bug
Heavier still he climbed.

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