The Dreamer’s Lament

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we trust in the trust of we

It looked strange when I first found out my hands were made of dust,

feathers & dust, dusty moments are hard to trust,

this is true, but where do we find ourselves?

The moon sets itself upon the sky,

without denial or chance to defy,

branches are busy growing,

& I want to be as such,

growing towards the sun,

because I tell myself so—

I can feel my cells collapsing into a new state of traffic—

collisions turn into electricity & I can feel it in my veins,

Hollow bones tell me to pulse, & I know, so I move,

I cannot stand still,

I am not stagnant without you,

nor am I flowing in ways always just,

I’ve been waiting for your voices,

& your eyes tell me I must—

so I tackle my mind, & save it up,

because a labyrinth is a labyrinth

from dawn till dusk

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