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The loneliness is immense,

rounded, like a halo.

Maybe it’s holy, too.

I wonder if it spills

from me like

the milk from the moon.

Lighting the way, maybe

a companion of itself.

It’s lighter than

the Other responsibility

but somehow bigger.

Not peace-less yet

not a piece of anything

puzzled or partnered.

I wonder if the moon gets lonely.

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