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blind and deaf
energies wild and gentle
lapping waves sighing on
sand the howl through
the trees in the gale we
are caressed and thrashed
by powers we harness but
never control we are not
in charge our tenancy
is tenuous and short
lived but we presume
spread vaunt and preen
when the mirror and the
mystery warn and
disagree but who cares
there’s always tomorrow
– or is there
© Neil Thompson 2026