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Metanoia
Change arrives, a quiet guest,
Unseen, yet stirring in the chest.
It moves like wind through autumn trees,
Shifting roots with gentle ease.

It calls with promise, bright and pure,
A chance to grow, a chance to cure.
The new can taste like morning rain,
A soft rebirth from silent pain.

Yet with each dawn, a shadow falls,
A mourning voice, a silent call.
For...