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E.g., 04/01/2020
E.g., 04/01/2020

I see the pieces on the ground,
So broken, scattered, torn.
The pieces long forgotten,
Continents and oceans overworn.

Nepal, Hawaii, St. Lucia
In a long, congested heap.
The passed families stay afloat,
Souls torn by the Reap. 

With tears welling in my eyes,
Like the Victoria Falls I hold, 
I arrange my lakes and plateaus,
Longing for new gems now old. 

In its brokenness, I begin to see
The final picture unfold. 
But the jagged ridges jar my sight,
My pieces still dormant and cold. ...

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