The Fugue

Jun 10, 2024
1 min read

I feel now the great dreaming

Warm and regal mantle when all the world

become a mist of mere potentialities

All crashing corridors and winding ways

Who walks my feet I cannot say

Or where or when I'll wake again

Pushing, at times, to strain the webs

Til lungs are filled with honey

Or graceful ghost adroit

All eyes and ears and timeless halls

The spiraling of the road

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