So much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying, An intolerable waiting, A longing for another place and time, Another condition.
A lively understandable spirit Once entertained you. It will come again. Be still. Wait.
A terrible violence of creation,A flash into the burning heart of the abominable;Yet if we wait, unafraid, beyond the fearful instant,The burning lake turns into a forest pool,The fire subsides into rings of water,A sunlit silence.
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