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Turning Forward

The sun-burnt monk
Runs
Through the flowering hill
With the unknown name.

Don't look where he's going!

The wind blows north
The monastery is south.
An amber earth
Burns beneath his feet,
Dry and atoning.
The sun-burnt monk
Offers his confession to the ships
Ready to sail across mystery,
Naked as his eyes.

Don't look where he's going!

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