We wrote those words
on slivers of silver,
leaving them as offering
to the rain.

Watching stacks of ourselves
dispersed by magnetic storms
which leave no trace,
no hint of ash.

We wrote those words
with the patience of saints,
in scribe-like care,
and due attention paid to the void.

Waiting at a distance for the ionized smell of rain,
which will grant us leave
to walk from that place
into the permanence of unknowing.

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