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  • And what of love that ends, but does not end?

    If there could be some certainty, but no,

    only the ambiguity of change

    that leaves me more the same, and you the same,

    our separate landscapes burning green to gold,

    and green again through each transforming year.



    Who can account for this: unchanging change,

    within which love remains the same, unchanged,

    yet changed in context by each circumstance

    as colors spinning through new spectra change,

    until familiar hues seem not the same?


    This is the paradox, the irony,
    which finally I see, and do not see.



    (Photograph by AJN in Real Life)
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