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There was that moment when parentage grew wings … when each gave their life so urgently exchanged for their delight … then came storms and sorrow for all the right reasons … a child their only receipt … they became like minded authors on the road of their procession watching them on the field of play the days they shared the child of their creation … brief moments clutched together their pride worn like the finest clothing among like minded throngs … through eyes of momentary glory … the field they all had played on … the field of youthful  glory  …

it didn’t matter how they played … all spaces counted when seen between the lines of who they were … from pole to pole they took their rightful place in exchange for  the delusions … passed on through time and space …

everything i’ve told you could possibly be true and i know you feel the same …

it’s not the knowing that gives life its meaning …

it’s the life there could have been seen between the lines … it’s the Life we thought we didn’t have that

makes it all

worthwhile …

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