the last epistle


some days I feel like I wake up wrong

and thus I go back to sleep

I return to the point of dreaming where

in solace my slumber keeps

a solitude most bles-sed

a mercurial and infinite bliss

and my storage for all that’s gone awry

of all I wake to miss

………………………………………………………………………..

Some words are sparks, sufficient in burning entire civilizations to the ground.

Some words are just words.

They kindle nothing, neither thought nor action, nor recompense.

And these are the words that are uttered without feeling.

……………………….

gdp

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