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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Finding Earth

In my dream
I found abandoned telescopes.
Tin cans discarded on mountains.
Imploded submarines on the edge
of abysses.
They were everywhere these humans!
You could not trust one stone
stacked on another.
It must have been them.
Petrified columns supporting the sky.
Gems beautifully faceted
on the ground.
Diamonds bright as snowflakes.
How delicate their hands
must have been.
How do we account for their pyramids?

Everything resembles shells
scattered on a beach.
Pieces of them.
Did they believe in magic?
How far could their eyes see?
How long did they spend a life?
What broke their hearts?
How did they come to this?
Everything is still.
Wilderness.
Solitude.
Their souls evaporated in time.
Sadness.
A shore of sadness.

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