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Come...come... let’s you and I
abandon the city of vultures,
leave the region of “you” and “I”1
and obtain a passport
to the traceless realm,
Where no clocks are made
and minutes are not sold,
Where the Khezr of good fortune
has stitched pre- and post-eternity together,
Where they do not point to numbers
and dust is not sold for gold,
Where breaths cannot be counted,
where eternity, from end to end, is just one breath,
Where you
will be I
and I
you.
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