While walking last night,
I found a small book of matches.
The front design was fading,
and the matches were worn.
Nonetheless, I slipped one through
the bent book hoping it would ignite.
Predictably, the match didn't light
and I continued my pilgrimage in the dark,
heavy with the thought that if I wait,
I too will be rendered useless,
A wordless book and the sulfur I still smell.
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