Is
Pummeled
Dirt
And cosmic
Spat,
A shoreline
Of
Alien coast,
More fictitious than thunder
Disappearing
Between the fingertips of the moon,
Is utter non
Sense
Played without jest,
A box of giggles
Forgotten of hat,
A grave contest drawn in
The dust of stars.
You will not know the self.
The self is not enough.
But you will burn nonetheless.
Love this. “But you will burn nonetheless.”
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Thank you. I’m very glad you liked it.
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