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@simsa03 I wrote this 17 years ago:

EMBERS for Meg

For forty thousand generations
we stirred the embers
of a low fire,

kept the audible prowlings
of the huge night
at bay.

A small tribe,
we looked up at the stars,
and the spaces between the stars,

tracked the transits
and transformations
of the moon, counted five wanderers,

As chert or clay came to our hands,
words came to us,
and we built them into stories

nested in stories,
tool kits for making memory
into myth,

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