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If I never saw  
 
anything at all, if being were only a way  
 
 
of attending the present, 
 
 
could we still be who we are? 
 
 
Would all the wants and ways 
 
 
of staying the same 
 
 
still be available if life were lived in felt? 
 
 
Goals met and attended 
 
 
yet not seen, 
 
 
would they still hold weight? 
 
 
When art and color and rapid strobe feelings 
 
 
are put on hold, 
 
 
does the meaning wane? Do 
 
 
my words cease to mean 
 
 
whatever they meant 
 
 
in the fragile orbs I closed to sleep? 
 
 

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