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Contributor: JD DeHart

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At approximately 3 AM
the neighborhood is surprisingly
clear, as are life’s goals and mysteries,
a solid purpose in silent society.
An entire world of busy hurry
suddenly wrapped in freezer silence,
no one walking by, not even a dog
bothers to bark –

But the tableau is soon broken
by two other figures, wearing hooded
shirts, traipsing through this private time,
muffled conversations whispered in shout;
How dare they interrupt
my communion with this hour?
Where was their root born?
And what is their intent?
Robbers or fellow philosophers, they
walk on, leaving all feelings of solace
in mildly shattered disrepair, reminding me:

None of these thoughts are first
my own, not one, the world is stuffed.

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