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Fungal Bloom

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I am the drone, a wisp of sight-
  I felt the warmth of borrowed breath.
A borrowed lens in endless night,
 the second life, the final death.
 
I see my hands in theirs—a lie—
  I, the moon ascends a fungal bloom.
And spread the curse as I drift by,
  with spores of light in silver gloom.

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