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Everything tends towards chaos
The moor slides gently
Down the road
Littered with pebbles
And slicked with mud
Last night's deluge
Set loose a small part
Of my hill
The mist thickens
By the twisted oak.
I can hear the geese
Their wings like heartbeats
Pushing through the air
Like the wild blood
Coursing through my veins
I know where I am going
I can see where I have been.

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