Time heals all, but time must also
love to meander— Out of necessity, time takes
a turn sometimes; tiptoes past some forms
asleep in their beds, rushes headlong

into others, or makes the light linger unexpectedly
as though we were seeing the hand of God. There is no
sweetness/ that doesn't leave a stain— another poet's
words I thought about when, across the globe,

thousands tipped their faces up as if to swallow the purple-
sweet glow of solar particles, colliding with molecules in our
own atmosphere. Other stars are a million times more

luminous than our sun, but this is the light that left its source
eight minutes ago to fall on us. I want to linger in the grace of this
slower arrival—a bead of time in which so much could still happen.

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