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The Long White Room
  Listen, as light through broken window, peers back the heart of you, 
  slowly, to soften each thought of pain - to adjust your face to sun, or rain. 
  For 'twas long, till light would shine back through, and you drempt of 
            death again. 
  You stare, as if through invisible glass - lost in delusions of the past. 
  The wanting still burns with glimmering eyes - like tears, you craddled, 
            but never knew. 

  And I've known you, somehow inside  me- whose eyes before this time 
            had seen, 
  all the broken familiar things that fell apart, and fell into - 
  a part of the moon I blamed with you, for things we could not understand, 
  until now. But now, is when our shadows sleep - with us, inside us, 
  and warmth may keep the ghost away, but only for a while they stay, 
            far from in the silent room, we seldom think at all, to pray. 

- David T. Culver

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