Friday, December 22, 2006
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At rock bottom one is drifting, a piece of jetsom amidst the wreakage,
Purposeless, adrift, collecting the weeds of ages
That strew the ocean, where one walks, sleeps and combines
Where no harvest is gathered but the thoughts of loss;
...
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1/17/2026 5:31:11 PM # 1.0.0
