THE LANTERN
IN THE VALLEY
The birds are all gone, with
singing. Not much is left now
of anything at all. There seems
a new arc, even, in the old, flat
rainbow of then.
-
I can walk around, thinking of
Eden, remembering Eve. It's a
shadow march with the dark
inklings of Time now chasing
me down - the same silence
as sleep, but yet different too.
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