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She finds nothing
nothing that she has not already learned in some form
some form of herself, learned by herself, nothing 
she did not know of already
but she finds that it is necessity,
if, and though she fears it must be done, time must persist
in such distinctive illusion, she will not forget what 
she has seen, so she writes poetry
moment by moment between
those observers who assume themselves
while there is passivity
there is the obsession
as if the word lord distributes
thoughts like alms for the mute
all these voices surround her
poetry is like breath and life, it is walking
in the moment, recognizing beauty
as another views with disgust,
beauty in everything but destruction of
the innocent, now and then in the form of darkness,
it is the rejuvenation from darkness,
when nature implores one to do something
poetry is alchemy
something from nothing 
and this is what she sees
nothing but necessity
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