MAKESHIFT REVERIE
It was a morning like this,
I bet, that I was born. Now I
can't remember a thing. The
long knives of the sky come
out, as if welcoming the sun
will strictly cause another
day to come. Though I've
found it doesn't work that
way, I understand the feeling.
-
I want to be where I've never
been before. I need to see
what's behind that other door
- is it something unknown and
a challenge, or just a different
reflection on this same pale
water? Lambs will settle,
while lions roar.
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