against waiting light he clutches shadows of accumulated disappointments a constant visitor comfortable friendship blinding him from hope set in his ways, to the light, he speaks “There is no destination. Only a beginning, middle and end destined to live.” inherited words he believes to the last second as shadows swallow his breath in time, light trickles upon his grassed over grave flowers burst from earth near rebels making love beside his sacred space through strangers, new life blooms a second chance, created within new bones, old soul set in his ways destined to live again, and again and again going through the motions concluding: “There is no destination. Only a beginning, middle and end on repeat.”
Featured Image: Team GHB
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