The orphan’s eyes open,
uttering as legacy this world’s heavy weight.
A dog sniffs by,
claiming the space you’ve left.
A tree targeted by stars
hums all night.
A horse scenting snow
echoes your silence across a timeless moor.
A clutch of wild asters
leans toward the breast of your tombstone
stroking its worn solitude.
Why wait till death
to start believing?
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