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The Note on the Map Says You Are Not Here
Maybe the map is downside up – it says
“Traveler, Kindly Note That You Are Not Here”
As an astrolabe turns back on itself
And a compass looks to that second star
Pale pages crawl across shy words that sneak
Most carefully into a telescope
Wherein great mysteries are to be felt
With a gentling ear that judges not
How beautiful the stars this moonlit day
And would you make life any other way?
