Site icon No Talent for Certainty

The Sentries (3)

Somewhere just past your farthest thought
The waking dream that is your life
Sits quivering and lonely, knowing
You will never find it

Amid a building far away
The hope you buried underground
Is stored inside a freezer, where the
Passers-by won’t mind it

For though in sometimes reverie
You walk towards the distant light,
You long ago gave up your watch
No longer vigilant at night

The sentry-post you thoughtless fled
That separates the living from
The dead

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