being sloughed off
in sheets no longer vile
but now simply pitiable, and
a new portrait appeared to be
spreading over the palimpsest
that had seen so many
exhausted and hesitant
previous incarnations.
Was it sunlight
creasing the indifferent
horizon to his right,
or was it an odd luminescence
being generated from within
a self liberated at last
from childish things?
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