impoverished and driven
kneeling at the foot of your
fragrant recollection,
energy thriving in the midst
of what seemed to be
an eon of separation -
but this is only a figment
of what we are made of,
a grain, an iota, an almost
unnecessary trail toward
loneliness - let me stop you now
and show you a path where
flowers burn at the sign
of you and me, clasping and wishing.
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