# “Light(s) Where None Should Be” Voting Thread



## Chesters Daughter (Aug 15, 2020)

*A reminder for all entrants: you are obligated to cast at least one vote in the poll. Failure to do so will result in your entry being disqualified.

*Welcome one and all to the Poetry Challenge voting poll! Please read all of the *entries*, and then proceed to cast votes for as many pieces as you see fit, but please keep in mind that entrants may not vote for their own work. *If you vote for yourself, your entry will be disqualified.
*
All entries are eligible to receive critique. *Critique for entries posted on the public should be posted in this thread. Critique for entries posted on the secure board must be posted in the secure critique thread which may be accessed HERE.
**
***Please be mindful of where your critique is being posted so that the first rights of entrants are not compromised.

*I remind everyone that all critique, and responses to it, must be directed solely at the work. Any comments that veer into the personal will be promptly removed upon discovery and will result in appropriate moderation for the poster. No baiting, flaming, or trolling will be tolerated in this thread, or its partner on the secure board.
*
You have ten days to make your selections. This poll will close on August 25th at 8:40PM EST.

Best of luck to all entrants!

Once this poll has closed, and the results have been officially revealed,you may post your entry on either of the Poetry boards for additional feedback.
*


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## Firemajic (Aug 16, 2020)

WOW!!!! I am so thankful we can vote for more than one of our favorites.... ALL the poems were absolutely fabulous! Each poem was so unique and personal, and each poet raised the poetic bar soooo high... Good luck Poets, this is a fierce challenge!


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## rcallaci (Aug 16, 2020)

It's time for me to lightly review these wonderful poems. All of them are quite good. I'll start with Fire as she holds a special place in my heart.

*Final Flame*

When I die light a final fire
a glorious celebration, funeral pyre
then let me drift far out to sea
and smile when you remember me

This flame that burns, I've lost control
scorched my heart, singed my soul
suffocated on poisonous smoke
could not breathe and lost all hope

Watch me as I go up in flames
know that I have loathed this game
sacred love, loving sacrifice
this fragile thing we call life

Let my flame ignite your life
passion born of pain and strife
let my smoke permeate your skin
and start a fire deep within

soaring, dancing in the midnight sky
no longer earthbound, I can fly
a tiny spark soon lost in space
my flame now gone without a trace...

*This is some powerful poetry- It simmers, burns, turns to ash, and disappears- It starts with a shout and ends with a whisper.  so much like life. 

This piece flows likes a river- excellant rhyme scheme- you've found your voice, it's quite distinctive.  A wonderful piece of poetry.*


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## rcallaci (Aug 16, 2020)

_My next review is Lisa's poem our beloved host- Lisa and Fire have similar voices but with a different emphasis. Lisa's anger is visceral- in your face whiles Fire's is a sad and melancholy anger both quite effective 
_
Senseless (Mature Content)

Features of both were hidden
by required face coverings
decorated with skull and crossbones,
but their wild eyes
remained naked
and glinted
what was secreted inside.
Video would reveal
inhumanly bright beacons
above death-bedecked masks
focused on a task
born of misplaced spite
and orchestrated
on a moonless night.

The same duo
had snuffed out
the adjacent street lamp
the night before,
brick after brick,
until one finally scored.
Both snickered
at a passerby
whose cranium was cracked
by miss number four.
They offered her a phone to call 911
but only because
they knew no one would come.
She was left in a heap,
both bloodied and dazed
and laughingly given the advice
“Next time,
get out the way.”

A little storefront church,
left in the lurch along with the nearby precinct,
was about to make the couple’s acquaintance.
They had no need to shatter plate glass,
the bones of their target
were alas
made of wood,
and those bibles inside would sure burn good.
Accelerant and match married
to create a flame, their fiery offspring
then devoured
the fluid drenching the frame,
as partners in crime
anticipated fame
amongst their peers.
Once they were sure all was lost,
arm in arm
they skipped down the street,
oblivious to the true cost
of their debut “feat”.

+++++++~

After three months of unwanted
and unpaid “vacation”
thanks to a lockdown of the nation,
Jack had finally been summoned
back to work.
Joyous to resume his schedule,
he set the coffeemaker for a 6am perk,
and eager for the coming day,
he prematurely hit the hay.
Tonight, he’d been spared
the now familiar midnight melancholy
that had plagued him throughout the plague.
He was soon in the embrace of the sandman,
his tie for the morrow still in hand,
and dreaming of dinner on a table free
of past due notices screaming “pay me!”,
until a shrill shriek attacked his ears
and yanked him from his subconscious.

It seemed noon light
had come to visit in the dead of the night.
The brightness permeated his closed lids,
and his drowsy brain struggled
to make sense of it, the street lamp
had been butchered the day before,
none of the church folks
were downstairs in the store,
he’d turned out the lamps, how could this be?
Then he opened his eyes to see
flickering hunger feeding on the sill,
as his nostrils were filled
with the smoke from its meal.

Trying not to choke,
he bolted for the bedroom door,
but the knob glowed crimson,
and its edges were blackened
from top jamb to floor.
He found his phone to call for help
but was rewarded
with a busy signal
five
ten
twenty times,
and by then
the smoke and heat
had fully made their climb.

Surely they’ll see it, surely they’ll come
he frantically thought
as his lungs began to succumb,
and as they blistered, he whispered
“I have to be at work at nine.”
An empathetic darkness
kindly cradled him
until he was once more bathed in light,
but it was warm and welcoming,
and unlike the first, felt right.

Jack drew his last waiting for help
that never showed, and once the glow
had extinguished all on its own, the coroner
sifted through ash to collect his bones.
As as he was being shoveled
into a body bag,
his company engaged
in no lag
and his prized position was gifted
to another starving soul
who desperately wanted
off the dole.

​+++++++~

The automaton twosome
spent the day double-dosing
on mission statements
with no abatement
as they pined and whined for sunset
to resume the battle tactics
that were planted in their heads,
with no care for casualties
in or out of beds,
and at dusk began screeching
“Destruction is our right!
Gonna burn it all tonight!”

And once darkness assumed its position,
they did just that,
and light again invaded night
gratis of flames burning bright

where even the tiniest flicker
would have never existed

sans the abject hand of man.

*Your narrative style is outstanding. Your use of rhyme. is quite good, I accused you of your use in some of your poems  of deploying forced rhyme. I've seen none in your past two pieces. Your use of rhyme is sublime.  I always thought you were a very very good poet. But you're now an outstanding one. One hell of a gripping piece.*


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## rcallaci (Aug 16, 2020)

Darkin back on form- Her delightful fantastical poetry

Vestiges of Constellations Gone

Vestiges of Constellations Gone


Follow a ripple as day dies and stars rain down—
Trace the ripple, constellations of firefly rounds,
an old lullaby of wings that pierces dense night.
Firefly light. Firefly bright. Firefly must take flight.
-------------------In a ripple, Guardian of Deeping Sound

Bug by bug, bright by light, together are bound
until it appears, the lored Door of the Drowned.
Two jet eyes glittered, beetle bright at the sight
as from the pool’s heart she appeared, this light
--------------------------- Guardian born of stars rained down—

Touch the ripple, constellations—stories bound,
among them, Firefly, Guard of Deeping Sound.
Firefly bright, Firefly, a Fox made of firefly light.
Go deep, where no light should be, find the bright,
the Fox entrusted with the key to Deeping Sound.
------------------------------Firefly, made of stars now drowned.


*The form you use is not an easy one for a beginning or journeyman poet to write. You have mastered the form and made it fun to read. Your style and voice are totally unique . This piece adds to the delightful world you have written for us these past years. Loved the poem*


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## Chesters Daughter (Aug 16, 2020)

rcallaci said:


> _My next review is Lisa's poem our beloved host- Lisa and Fire have similar voices but with a different emphasis. Lisa's anger is visceral- in your face whiles Fire's is a sad and melancholy anger both quite effective
> _
> *Your narrative style is outstanding. Your use of rhyme. is quite good, I accused you of your use in some of your poems  of deploying forced rhyme. I've seen none in your past two pieces. Your use of rhyme is sublime.  I always thought you were a very very good poet. But you're now an outstanding one. One hell of a gripping piece.*



Wow, just wow, thank you so much, Bob, coming from a poet of your caliber, whom I’ve admired from the get-go, these words mean the world to me. If it weren’t for anger, I would have curled up in a ball and capitulated years ago. It serves me well in real life as far as endurance goes, but when it comes to my voice, it’s not always easy to work with with certain subject matter, it gets in the way. Can’t tell you how many people have asked me if I ever write anything happy, lol. Umm, not really, in all these years there’s less than ten pieces, if even that, that remotely seem upbeat. 

I’ve always been most comfortable writing fictional narratives, and those are the pieces I have gotten the best feedback on. Your nod for that has me tickled pink, ay, did I really just say that? Someone kick me, please, see, I can do happy, lol. Your past accusations of my forcing rhymes were totally justified. Guilty was I, still am, sometimes, but I’ve worked very hard to temper the rhyme addiction. I’m obsessed with sound, got that from Baron, he was an expert, and at first, rhyme was the only tool in my arsenal. Luckily, and thanks to our WF poets, I learned about assonance, consonance and alliteration and a whole new world opened up. I cannot tell you how much time I spend swapping words in and out to achieve an aural quality I’m satisfied with. It’s tedious, but completely worth it. 

To be honest, there are a few rhymes in this piece that are too intrusive, plan to remedy that after a period of hands off. You know we all go blind when we spend too much time trying to edit. I spent 14.5 hours developing the bones and slapping some flesh on this never ending monster, no one was allowed near me that day, two interrupting idiots barely slunk away with their lives, lol, and then spent an additional 3 hours the following day polishing. It was time well spent, getting this down in stanzas has been incredibly cathartic, that anger is without a doubt productive, but if one fails to siphon some off from time to time, it will consume you. The piece still needs some work, though, and after I regain my sight, I’ll tighten it up some more.

A billion thanks for sharing your precious time and coveted opinions with me, and for giving me the opportunity to share some background. You’re the best, Bob, blessings be upon ye.


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## rcallaci (Aug 16, 2020)

Chesters Daughter said:


> To be honest, there are a few rhymes in this piece that are too intrusive, plan to remedy that after a period of hands off. You know we all go blind when we spend too much time trying to edit. I spent 14.5 hours developing the bones and slapping some flesh on this never ending monster, no one was allowed near me that day, two interrupting idiots barely slunk away with their lives, lol, and then spent an additional 3 hours the following day polishing. It was time well spent, getting this down in stanzas has been incredibly cathartic, that anger is without a doubt productive, but if one fails to siphon some off from time to time, it will consume you. The piece still needs some work, though, and after I regain my sight, I’ll tighten it up some more.




This is what I was hoping for. A poet telling us about their process. This is exciting stuff. 

I hope to see other poets critiques and the process they go through - I'm going to critique all the poems and go over my process as well in the next few days.

Lisa- thank you for the kind words= this old man is blushing...


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## rcallaci (Aug 17, 2020)

Philistines light review- in the *secure* bistro


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## rcallaci (Aug 17, 2020)

another funny piece with tragic overtones. 

Trolley-Dash

Shopping spree
Binge-buy bullets
Ciggies or weed
Candy or candles
Lippie or loo rolls
Matches, mascara or masks?
Ten bottles of gin.
Decisions, decisions!

Trump Tweets: Lights failing. Abandon ship. Every man for himself!

Decision made: matches, candles and gin ... oh, and rat poison.

*subtle satire - a didactic gem done with finesse. The ending gave me a big smile - rat poison for that american scoundrel from across the pond. Those Trump tweets- sadly on the money.  loved it. 
*


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## rcallaci (Aug 17, 2020)

an oddly strange water lullaby 

Drowning Music / The Midnight Zone Mermaids


[tum]
.
[tum-dum]
..
[tum …

… come.
under her watery skin:

fish-lips loll open,
salt on your tongue.
cheek of the slug and the starfish;
spine of the horseshoe crab.
salad your zooplankton
and body a nautilus
spread feathering fingers
into her flesh,
lay your web-skinny self
against her cold back.

we have no hearts to beat as one.
…
[tum]

[tum-dum

the moon by night
the mirrored sun
crisped our skin and blacked our scales
but as we sunk,
we drunk
its channeled glory
and along our bodies there burst
pockets of stars.

we have no hearts to beat as one.

[tum]
.
[tuummm ….

… and our eyes bulge
lidless in our faces,
full of fire that is not fire
and light that is not sky.

and the

[tum]
[tum] [tum]
..
[tum-dum
.
of our shell-chambered chests
is only the rhythm
of her aphotic measures,
too dark and crushing
for you to understand.

*for the life of me I can't figure out what these creatures are- so I guess- I see them as the first cells of life in the goo where life formed. tum tum tum- separation-replication- multiply- or a multitude of other watery things- this piece is a subjective lottery where the reader can get lost in this dreamscape. This is poetry at its best. *


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## rcallaci (Aug 17, 2020)

soft and elegant poetry

Devil’s Bird

Ebony grains pour through the sky,
black crosses in flight—
pulled from darkness,
not the light— creatures of upper air,
close to angels.

Feet not made for earth or branch,
fold in evening vespers.
Limned against bright clouds,
dark stars,
riding thermals.

*Bats Bats and more bats-- at least that's what I think they are. A wonderfully visual poem - I saw them emerge from their caves and fly back in folded upside down in prayer. excellant form and flow- Masterly done as always. *


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## rcallaci (Aug 17, 2020)

a poem for these sad times 

No Visitors

Deepest places of the heart
are set apart in time of trouble
subtle invasion of sterile hands
throws light where none should be.

You in a world of tubes and wires
cold interlude of burning pain
sunlight fades as distant yearning
stands helpless in the shade.

Blinded by the empty miles
forbidden boundary in-between
crouched in terror here at home
as you fight on alone.

*The horrors of the virus in poetic verse. This piece gives me the chills. Each stanza is a different piece of pain. Excellant writing outstanding poetry 
*


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## Firemajic (Aug 17, 2020)

Maestro, Thank you so much for your kind words and critique of my poem, "Final Flame"... If I have grown as a poet, it is due in large part to your unselfish and patient mentoring...this grasshopper is grateful 

Now, these were my thoughts as I read your poem...

Light's Flight, by rcallaci
*** fabulous title... sounds so lilting and gentle...

the bells of hell bellow songs**** love the alliteration, nothing gentle in this line! It is like a slap in the face and sets a hellish vibe....

of lament as the hordes 
covered in the filth of sin
enter unto its gates*** strong, devilish imagery, this is where you excel as a poet, your imagery....

The lights of heaven are dimmed... *** Again, your imagery sets the mood....

but not extinguished for those
who swam and still swim in the mud

salvation, love, forgiveness 
are lights eternal**** I love that you identified the lights... love, forgiveness and salvation... these are the lights that shine in the darkness of hell.... for me, these lines are the jewel in this poem...

and even in the pitch black
fire of hell an infinitesimal pin prick
of God's light still shines

hallelujah! hallelujah! hallelujah!


This is a devilishly delicious poem, penned by a true Word Wizard... 
Now, I love that you led me to the depths of hell... THEN shined the light of salvation.... Not really your usual savage point of view, am I right? Ahhh, it is sooo cool to see that even a devil can believe in salvation, love and forgiveness.... maybe HOPE is "Light's Flight"....

A Maestro Masterpiece.....


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## jenthepen (Aug 17, 2020)

Thank you, my poetic friend, for the kind review. I struggled to keep this poem simple and avoid the words becoming swamped by emotion and I'm not sure I succeeded in that. I feel happier with the flow and internal rhyme of first two stanzas, not so much with the third. I think I have some work to do with this one.


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## Firemajic (Aug 17, 2020)

Dear jen, Your poem broke my heart... You expressed so clearly the horror of the situation in your first stanza... and could have been a complete poem, you could have stopped right there...
there seems to be a vibe quiet resignation ....


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## rcallaci (Aug 17, 2020)

Firemajic said:


> Now, I love that you led me to the depths of hell... THEN shined the light of salvation.... Not really your usual savage point of view, am I right? Ahhh, it is sooo cool to see that even a devil can believe in salvation, love and forgiveness.... maybe HOPE is "Light's Flight"....



My dearest grasshopper

thank you for your review-it touched me. I'm glad it resonated. And yes I was a mellow devil in this piece- but even the devil needs to put away the savage pen on occasion and shine a bit a light in the darkness - it keeps the demons on their toes. 

warmest
bob


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## rcallaci (Aug 18, 2020)

A sad and poignant piece

*Light*

hold your hand
brush away a hair
listen to you breathe

look
deep down
past thousand mile stare

dare dream I see
what shouldn't be there
light
but no
couldn't be

it's not you
in there


*I interpret this to be about a loved one hoping to see a semblance of awareness( a light of recognition) from someone suffering from advanced dementia. Effective imagery... I felt the sadness and anguish that the loved one felt. A fine piece of poetry.*


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## rcallaci (Aug 18, 2020)

An amusing rumination on love of coffee

*Intravenous
*
I’m a caffeine junkie
love than java jive
i’m not no flunky
makes me feel alive.

I can feel the morning glow
lights up my early dawn
sunshine brightens my cuppa joe
sitting on my back lawn.

Gives me a morning kick
so my day’s a pleasure
though my daily coffee fix
jumps up my darn blood pressure

s*econd line-than should be that. Some forced rhyme - second stanza is polished and good and the last line is funny. The first stanza needs work was a little rushed. All in all a fun little piece*


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## rcallaci (Aug 18, 2020)

One of the best titles to a poem -It's the heart of the narrative. I only regret that I read this lightly the first time I read it.

*Necromancer: The Awakening
*
He has the largest hands;
electric fingers that raise her
raise her,
a mouth
that kisses where she’s afraid.

She sleeps in motion, in swirls,
in swirls,
her hieroglyphs unfurl
like the scrolls
of a butterfly wing.

She has the smallest hands.
Unsteady palms that spill,
that spill,
anesthesia’s tomb
into the throes of living air.

Underneath the veil
his golden leaves
scratch her ankles,
and catch inside her hair.
She stirs to his adornment;
Pegasus and his wings;
the sky full of moon and stars

Somnolent, in shadow dance,
she rises to his eyes,
his eyes,
where prisms magnify
all her light.
Within the sparkles,
she reads her beauty.


*This is an outstanding piece. About the reawakening of a repressed, and dormant young woman by the dynamic man who loves her. I read this a few times and after each read it gripped me by the chin... Brava *


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## petergrimes (Aug 18, 2020)

Dear rcallici, kind people of the Forum, honoured quests,

thank you for your kind review of my entry to the competition. I write this response now in fulfilment of our Dr Faucian bargain, whereby I have agreed to work with your horned self (for the greater good) and sell my soul to you in return for your vote. I trust it will be a simple and pleasant experience, with no unforeseen twists. 

You have excellent negotiating skills, for I normally avoid the pubic sections of the boards, preferring to hide away inside the shadowy workshops, behind my pseudonym, singing Curlew River. Even my avatar is false for I'm not Sunil Gavaskar (although I wouldn't mind being able to bat like him). I had not at first intended to enter the competition but felt it important to show my support (and had nothing to do with my embarrassment at my previous paranoid rant). 

It was a bad mistake. For the standard is extremely high and I am very shallow and only interested in winning  . Chester Draws Daughter once promised me that if I won, I would receive a ticker tape, elephant,open bus top parade, accompanied by marching band and win the freedom to drive my sheep through the forums. Since the virus though and economic downturn, WF cuts have reduced the Elephant Parade to that of a rat, a Siberian tree cat and a bird. We all have to make sacrifices. Winning is all that matters to me though, hence why my finger tip is still bleeding, but I had one other concern that made me enter too.

By the time I realised the competition was taking place both yourself and Arrow of the bow of the Lord had entered. Now I'm not crazy, but I was raised reciting Revelations mantra like, by heart every day as a child. It scares me. I was worried if one of you two won it could set in motion a chain of events that I wanted no part in. The world is in a safe, sane, sensible space just now and we don't need no Apocalypse ruining things. I therefore put away my bleeding finger and got out my ostrich feather to write with instead. 

Unfortunately at the time I was stuck firmly behind the Iron Curtain of the writers Block. Also I made the mistake of looking at the other entrants. I quickly realised they were far too good and that to write anything vaguely comparable, I would have to spend more time and effort than the deadline allowed. It was a problem. I thought of cheating and entering some other persons poem, but realised that the other entrants, unlike me, actually had read poetry, so probably would spot it. Therefore I wrote the almost shortest poem I could. This was for several reasons,
1– less to go wrong
2– less to critique
3– less for me to do
4– I can't remember that one
Anyways it seemed a fudge, I mean a plan, so I started. I realised I needed a USP and decided that shameless sentimentality might win me half a vote. I remembered events at a job I once worked and I wrote about that. It took a few minutes. Then I left it ten minutes, edited it and posted it. I now realise its probably missing a hyphen or two, or three - and one line could go and I did have a better ending, but it would mean using the word 'there' far too much. All in all the whole thing took far less time to do than writing any part of this. So I entered, forgot about it and then saw your very kind review and wrote this reply (as per our agreement) and that's all I've got to say about that. Cheers PG


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## jenthepen (Aug 19, 2020)

:rofl:  PG, that response deserves a prize on its own!


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## rcallaci (Aug 22, 2020)

It's almost time for the voting to end- those of you you haven't go to the polls and Vote Vote Vote ------

I know I'm annoying with all these posts but I'm an annoying guy with an attitude. I'm going to go over my process when writing my piece. 

*Light’s Flight*

the bells of hell bellow songs
of lament as the hordes
covered in the filth of sin
enter unto its gates

the lights of heaven are dimmed
but not extinguished for those
who swam and still swim in the mud

salvation, love, forgiveness,
are lights eternal,
and even in the pitch black
fire of hell an infinitesimal pin prick
of God’s light still shines

hallelujah! hallelujah! hallelujah!

Surely not my best but not my worst either. When I write any of my poetry or stories I always speak  in one of the many characters I created over the years in their voice. I let them take over and speak in the addled recesses of my mind. Normally when I write my hell poems I speak in Lucifer's voice,  (not the Lucifer you all know and hate but the one in the theology I've been writing for 15 years. In this case the voice is Lucifelicia. She is more forgiving than Lucifer. 

Humanity for Lucifer is God's creation and he detests them but Lucifelicia (Lucifer's soulmate-long story)  has a fondness for them and knows even humanity can be redeemed and the light of God pieces through the vale. The hallelujah's at the end are from a chorus of angels who proclaim there is hope for all.

Well that a little backstory to the piece - hope to hear your take on your pieces. Only three days left....


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## Chesters Daughter (Aug 25, 2020)

Please do not post congratulatory messages in this thread. I’m off to create the winner’s thread, please save your comments for a moment and post them in the winner’s thread. Danke, me darlings.

Well done, all!


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