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Bear Witness

At the end of the Earth will we not want to scream, that we bore witness to the thrashing beauty of all things?

Earth scorched, flooded, tempested, frozen… that we saw the eagle fly the iridescent, velvet head of the mallard the soft hunch of squirrel?

That for a time, this was given us to delight upon and to commune?

At the end of the age, do we even recognize our own hollowed hands that wrought the final emptiness?

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