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EdeEDGlassblower

Not the fire that melts it,
                     Not the fire that melts me,
not the shape it will take.
                     not the shape I will take.
Only the breath
                     Only the breath inside
rising, filling,
                     yours,
holding the glass between worlds,
                     held in heat,
not yet breakable,
                     suspended,
not yet whole.
                     enough to make me real.










Content

  1. Edit
  2. I’m not sure I’d fight for it
  3. A place with no clocks
  4. A randomly generated poem
  5. Glassblower
  6. Monologue of a theatre chair
  7. Pilgrimage of the packet