Lost and Found

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It is a year now.

Since I became so intent on the sky.

I murmured to it every day.

Explained all of my situations.

"Please sort this out," I'd whisper.

Recently, I ran out of stories.

The word patterns.

Scrambled themselves.

Beyond recognition.

And I realized in an instant.

It's a waste of time to talk.

To what you are.