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 Schrödinger's Manea
I am nothing until
I am seen by you
And when I see you
I am lit up,
With memories and feelings
Which shape my face
And the movements
Of my form

I am never who I am.
Your Manea
Doesn't live When you are absent
She only lives in your memories.

Only In the presence of new
And old friends not seen
In a long while
Does she find the missing
Pieces of who she is
The inspirations of the Divine
She can only have
In your presence
You turn the lead in her
To gold,
The Alchemy of your friendship

Some poems will never
Be birthed from me
Until the seed of your
Essence or smile
Or poem,
Or voice
Strikes my brain
And another child of the universe
Springs forth from
Me Like Athena
From Zeus's head
Too full of ideas
To stay in the dark
Between the ears.

Yet the joy you see in her
Couldn't be there
Unless your being is present
To inspire it
The poems yet written
Come from how you inspire her,
They float in the void of potential
Until you strike the chord
In her,
And the poem can be heard.
The smile can be seen,
The love can be felt.

I am only the Manea
You know,
You remember,
Because of what you bring out in me,
Thank you for the life and love
That you make rise me.

And when you part
She returns to the void
Or lives on in your memory.

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