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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

First Light

Pale light,
cover my face.
The clock inside me has stopped.
Time has run out.
I look into the day
and it smiles at me.
There is no certain time.
No last tick
when I should close my eyes,
open my nakedness to death.
I thank the inanimate
for its blessings.
Tell the stones I love them.
They are so old,
so unbelievably young.
I am so young
and unbelievably old.
My eyes do not want to close.
I want them to open tomorrow,
but if my heart must stop,
neither death nor I
have much to lose.
Stones will be left on our graves
placed there by love.

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