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★★★★★ (1)
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2061714

Wherever we go, there we are.

A beam of torment, lost at the sea
of the moment's past,
beckons all the glory of yesteryear.

And dances, and cries, and dances.

Yet once again forsake the lossy
—a wave as mount—
with another push, slowly,
surely towards a shore.
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