where are we all going?
where does it lead?
have our thoughts become commodity,
a byproduct of media? of gender?
---
a dreamscape will spread,
as far as any universe.
but you won't know,
until the clocks are unreadable.
---
namasté, i bow to you,
my kindred soul.
i could follow your voice
through a hurricane.
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1 comment:
:)
quatrains.
have you found your voice?
mahal.
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