70 000 VEILS

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it's dark 

are my eyes open or shut

recollections play hide and seek with me

I chase them into the wood

I catch them like moths between my cupped palms 

and once I catch my breath

I split the dome open to study their wings

and before I can say one

they vanish between the first few blinks

I stay awake until dawn approaches 

to watch it signal our plane landing

and the month of spring is approaching



70000 veils