NOTES UPON THE SAY
They come
into the tenuous and fibrous weave of longing
of our affliction
making it a song,
which lasts
from dusk’s spiritual coma
to another waking.
For it is during
the hours
when light sleeps
that our mind
weaves the tapestry
in the nocturnal bed
giving us
a new set of hope’s
wings
worn upon the heart
carrying
one passed
another eve of soul numbing conclusions.
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