From the edge he walked to the center and hit
return. He might have felt lost in the clearing,
returning again and again to the dark margin.

He thought
of making a home
in the clearing,
planting a meadow
of words.
But things changed
at night
in the clearing.
ran to and fro.

He crossed to the other side, the distant
edge, the clearing now behind him.
He walked into that far margin,
and was never seen again.


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