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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Sleeping in the Sun

I am dissolving like a sugar cube.
Words melt before I can use them.
The world looks the same
out of the left eye or the right.
Sleeping in the sun,
I am just the sun.
I was born from the afterbirth of rain.
I hope it will rain again.

I am a moth coming out of its cocoon,
with no idea of where to go
or where to come from.
I am being born minute to minute,
walking on hot sand.
Chilled by the emptiness between my bones.
I corrode in summer
and rust in winter,
and become imaginal in spring.
Best, is to be burned in autumn
like old leaves,
leaving a sweet smell behind.

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