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Nicholas Gordon
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Forty-eight is twelve, having been born
On Leap Year Day, twelve genuine birthdays ago,
Reminding us of what we think we know:
That time and space are by the numbers drawn.
Yet time's a moment when it's ever dawn.
Each moment is infinity writ small.
In time, of course, nothing stays the same.
Given such mysteries, grace waits for all,
Having never come yet ever came,
There, just simply there, for all to claim.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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