poetry critical

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Waking to the light sifting
through disheveled heavy curtains,
partially drawn to dim,
maybe to block out entirely,
I think to rise
and move about my day.
Untimed mechanisms
paddling rough waters retreating:
a melting into a rivulet flowing
at the side of street to a drain.
I think to rise
And move about my day.
Carry me, my burden
abandoned dreams of night-
before I think to rise
and move about my day.

9 Jan 19

(define the words in this poem)

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