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sacrifice.
we stand in line.
waiting for the almighty's clue.
a gift, a purpose.
some great, some small.
some of us in line forever
because our talent was the line,
waiting, and laughing with our
linemates.
it's destiny's waiting room for some.
and merely a means for others.
the charging battery.
or a searching stillness.
edging slowly further our multitudes
of purpose waiting in several such
lines, some marked for love, career,
lesson, and gift.
i have heard a rumor that some have
escaped the lines altogether.
skipping ahead.
accepting uncontrol.
accepting now and what will be without reservation.
and so i stand, afraid, yet wishing.
i stand slowly getting guts.
and i stand before the moment i accept the anything.
these lines being the pact of new.
unexpected linelessness.
waiting without waiting.
this is a spoken for surprise.
talent takes throughout
(whether lacking or exploding)
across the expanse.
the acceptance of raining (a renewed hope for falling).
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