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    Poetry,  Works

    Where We Begin

    Unfoldeth thou in the rend so jagged and darkBut tinged it be with lines of redGlowing of a passage that may scorch the skinTo bear this burden I must do muchSo I sling the bag over my backThrow the goggles over my eyesCheck that all is preparedMy heart beatsWhich is good, but the rhythm is a bit too fast for my likingI lick my lipsThey are chappedThe heat burns against my faceBut it is the path I choseSo wish me…