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Will we be welcomed, asked the boy,
when everything around us has stopped,
when we are still and the sound
of us grows larger, larger than trees,
larger than sky, larger than wind?
I don't know, said the man. Will you
remember to ask me later? Ask me
when you're tall and I no longer am.
Ask me when the hurry has run
out of you and you sit, silent,
trading your memories for mine.
We might be in a room. We might
be on a mountain. One day, we'll
gather and these questions will
return, wealth that folds itself into
where we've already been.