In the reclaim

This is a reclamation, this
is a gathering, a
scavenging among the
rubbish of the past that
crows and magpies have
left me lying

empty things glittering that
once had meaning but
if I hold them not,
I too mean nothing
and there will be
no gathering-in

there will be no
sitting quietly
enjoying, thinking, being,
there will be
nothing left to be,
no single thing.

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