in early day
the slow reveal
of one lone space
out on the edge
and 'forest murmurs'
now recalled
each thought a hatchling
i must fledge
for new is ever
new to us
and old is just
survivor bias
ignominy
is *the* reward
for those who hold
to being pious
gentle somethings
whispered far
trenchant vapors
we disperse
we come we go
we run we stop
and we're not sure
just which
is worse
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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