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can’t sleep
antiquated furnace
clinks and clangs
in the basement
spewing luke warm air
overpowering

first words of people
not yet born
stories
not yet told
mix and swirl
together like
oil on water

Sleep?
a paradox resting only to be
creating still

when the breath of morning comes
never enough dreams

of strangers
whispers in shadows
turning to different landscapes

fueling living dreams
The fuel stops burning when then I can sleep.

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