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In The Field Of Absence
in the field of absence
i may find you
as a flower
or a a worm
of someone else
as i stare
at the clouds
asking who owns you
and who owns me
finally i nod
at all the leaves
meeting me
someone owns
you
the western wind
no one owns me
as i decide
to fly east
where the wind
is as soft as silk
i have grown
a pair of wings
you ask
what for?
i am flying away.
you ask
why?
i have no answer
but it is this
why that moves
everything
inside me
i ask too: why?
it keeps on moving
it is silent
it is bitter
it is as deep as a
black river.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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