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Len Anderson


I want an explanation;
The dew falls and rises without a sound.

Once I just had to tell the truth.
Now I'm grateful for even a word.

Sometimes, all alone, I listen.
When I hear nothing, joy is near.

I can't go to the big church anymore,
I got caught using the wrong metaphor.

The end of life is like its beginning;
We don't know the name of the one we cry out to.

Len says, These words are the best I can do for now—
The poem I wanted to write was already inside you.

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