Swooshing thoughts from past times
how life adjures its hike
and burns
in its uttermost refined art of a concept
divulge me
find me in the cave
of burning tears fleeing over the water
collected in a container behind eyelids
life, give of the hand throwing a dice
livelihood unknown
without which a captive is released
thought’s prison behind the curtain
as an outpost of control
as an escape from life itself
in adaptation
the outfit is adhered by the wave that chose me
identifying my second skin which is no longer a protection
wear of the weight that prevents a soul to glimmer
in a pond in the forgotten land
lives the one I seek.
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If I could give three likes to this one, I would. How magical (and sad)…
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What a wonderful response! Thank you dearly..
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