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In a culture of clutter  silence sharpened knifes cut monastic walls                                                       into a portrait of time beyond politics as the scurry of fingernails on chalkboards beyond the scramble of want and needing mouths beyond the labour of labour and sport beyond love as that last resort                                                sits nothing  where all things come from and all things go gently persuasive,  not unfriendly lingering without sneer a shadow who watches your forgotten cherries who reminds you that now is now is now is now