His roaming came

Round one day,

Led him fast

To me over skiddy

Bumps, lumps

In his throat, throttled

Down with sheer

Glide, the pride

Of Fate that bears

Souls on, beyond

The room they

Live in, to another

In the house or

Outside, even,

Further on,

To a new

Life and

Strange people,

Foreign with newness.

Here his soul

Found me,

Clocking out a

Beating sound

To mark passing

Life, feet nailed

Heavy, to the

Ground. Now

It feels as though

That instant,

Nails flew wide

And I flew up

With him on

Something fast

Moving and heady.

In reality

Time swept

On, no less

Neat than

Before nailed

Feet, freed,

Leapt on.

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