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Dust

Seeing the moon made me emotional more than usual. I usually see it just before it enters its zone, just as I end mine and come home. I’ve been thinking a lot about art and meaning and purpose in this life, and I saw this moon. Here it was, a slice of a thing, small enough to be as insignificant as a discarded nail clipping. And here it was, being celebrated by people like me. Never wavering, carelessly bold, and still perceived with awe no matter how full or broken it was. They say we are born of the same moon dust. That means I should consider myself with such awe and unbridled love.

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