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  • I dreamed last night that I was with my Father.
    “You look tired,” I said.
    He closed his eyes and fell over.
    I went to his side.
    “ I have broken my leg,” he said.

    When were we separated as matter from stones?

    When was the strength of granite removed my blood?

    Why am I not a rock in the face of fragility?

    I thought my Father was a mountain.
    He is a man.

    I thought I understood the lesson of time that the stones taught,
    That mountains turn into stones,
    Stones turn into sand.

    I thought I knew that time is a river.
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