Nothing is here
That has not spread its wings
Nothing is gone --
Its imprint is pressed
In the record of all things.
All is not lost --
All is here, untouched,
Unmediated, swift.
Why hold on tight,
When everything that lives
Must learn to drift?
This is your course --
Relayed to you
In hearbeat semaphore:
Toward Presence, mere Presence,
That near, that distant shore.
--Mr. Gobley
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