The Secret II

I have my fennel-stick
I have fashioned it
and carry it
carefully, slowly, lest it
fall and douse
the secret
and suddenly I stand bereft
and empty in the dark, left
with no sight, no heart,
know fear and cannot meet
his eyes' reproach
at such clumsiness
when I carried something precious
at my core, in disguise,
let it fall and cannot cause
it to rise
by my hand alone for it was
not my creation -
that bright gift given
for a time
and then withdrawn.
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