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The problem is not the writing;
Nor the thinking; both come easily;
But to co-ordinate pen and mind
As a unit. A unit that can reach
Deep into another and leave again;
Leaving, not a sense of intrusion,
But, rather, a sense of loss. For, having been there,
A poem, even like the mountains,
Must vanish over time.
* It is a function of pain
That can never be wrought
Without love to tease it out
To give it meaning, and power.