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It can’t happen more quickly or gentlyCan’t cushion the snap of the boneIt’s beyond the senses without the pretencesFor grief has a mind of its ownCan’t balance the glimpses of heartwarmth and wincesOr waken the smiles and the stonesThe world is an alien I take to a sailIn the grief with a wind of its ownThe empty is closer Making the mostfor the rest is not simple to do