Wednesday, February 18, 2015



While in sweet repose
It came to me
On the wings
of a dream
and true it is
I suppose

It is a terrible thing
To always be torn
Between destiny
And the past

You can't change the one
And will never know the other
Until you finally
At last

To go in search of the one
And finally be done
With the other
Which is of course
Only the past
At long last


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