blinded

As I turn away a boulder dislodges,
the earth moves in a heap of dust.
Is that a sound from gut of existence,
a sigh that emanates as lung sucks air,
slices language from bars of vacuum?
A word peeps from the rubble of life,
I pull it out, iron away the creases,
hold it against the sun. Lines blur,
loops of space fill the luminous paper.
Pools of light dance in retina because
what we hold closest we cannot see.

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