CONTINUANCE THROUGH COMMEMORATION
This morning's white fog, stretched thick,
was heavy on the land as I crossed old
St. Paul's graveyard. Amidst the natural
smoke, I spied the crosses and the angels
of the graves. In that whitened half-light
they seemed still pure, ephemeral even.
More pure than ever before. Yet, I
held no lesson from it but -
perhaps - a vague idea of
continuance through
commemoration.
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