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Sharp Edges



What I have not found,
or found in fragments,
most never sought.
So I cherish the other seekers.

But do we share much
other than our compulsion
and our failure?

It is not enough,
and I wish them well
and bid them farewell.

On, then, alone.
All sharp edges,
that shred the integrity
of intent.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.