Emily Dickinson Poem

We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints

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We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints
Sent various—scattered ways—
We parted as the Central Flint
Were cloven with an Adze—
Subsisting on the Light We bore
Before We felt the Dark—
A Flint unto this Day—perhaps—
But for that single Spark.

We miss Her, not because We see
We lose—because we win

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