Breath
I’ve waited for eternity to wake, and for eternity I soon shall sleep, thus sweet must be each scented breath I take, for nothing in this world is mine to keep.
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gene16180
My muse can be unseemly and nomadic although she fancies meter and good rhyme, her diligence and output are sporadic, and some may say she’s moving past her prime. At times she’s off consorting with the sages reflecting on existence, as it were, At...
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