And life is wearing like the wind that scours 
a stone: each year another layer is rough,
exposed, and bares its face up to the sun,
the wind, the rain, to beat upon.  Its grains
are borne on air back to the source, for rain
to force inward, the ground to bend its form,
its mould is filled, curves up for wind to scour
it like a stone.  And life is wearing thin.
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