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Collecting lines

Like fallen needles

Discarded

By aging pines,

Each one placed

Upon the page

With random care,

Deliberate

As if it belonged,

Jostling neighbours

Each one pruned,

A wild garden

Of wilder, disparate

Thoughts,

Thoughts gathered

From minds

Whose visions stretch

Beyond our reach,

But define our days

As if we ourselves

Had spoken.

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