A puff of treachery

Was a stranger in my body
as if time were not available to the senses
to discover the residing
cut and formed me into a custom
what was ought to gain ground fell into oblivion
and a traveler allows landscapes to whiz past
extending to catch a flower
like a whiff of a song
and then
the fleeing soul picks itself up in an attempt to invite an outsider
contemplation of a puzzlement to exist without escaping
sitting down and talking
with the part of the entity that I am.

Heart centration



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