Anthracite

Roll your penitent thoughts away, you might find they are not needed here

Lean forward into the wind and push, push aside things not yours to own

Realise resistance to your movement is the moult of some horrible beast.

It is not light in your peripheral; maybe its hope and maybe its fear

The hiss you hear tries to seduce you, attempting to make you its clone

All this is committed to memory, as on its carcass you joyfully feast

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