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A Sonnet for a New Year
Dragging knees and shadow,
Each seeking a new light.
Darkness there provides no warmth,
Bequeaths a certain bite.
Some ancient soul who felt the blade,
Bent futures to his will.
Histories turn’d other cheek,
Calendars for a kill.
But some who favor heat’s mirage,
Find sense, eternal spring.
Pompous Romans carry not,
Control such heavy things.
When opened are the buds anew,
So then is our rebirth too.
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