I knew nothing of them myself.
Yet, like a gnostic in the desert,
My life reassured they were there.
And there were answers, this was true.
If I could find the right book, the secret
would slip out like a ferret in the dark.
Often I would scan the library shelves,
tracing down titles hinting at arcana,
some outline of the occluded moon.
If I could’ve, I would have left it alone,
but I did what I felt compelled to do:
my only complaint, my only lie.
(September 10, 2026)
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