Untitled No 4

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Time slows
Suspended waits
Dithering which way to go
Incontinent seconds
Leak weakly into moments
Anaemic thoughts
Paled by their insignificance
Blanch, wither and
Slip away, behind
Inner windows
The soul’s aperture
Through which he stares
At shadows
Shades of memories
Stretched from the past
Time and shadows
Vapours of insubstantiality
Elusive seconds of memory
Confuse, split
The present
It’s best not to stare
At shadows from the past
Thoughts are best watered
With light that illuminates
The present

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badgerslabyrinth

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