but it is not the future
in which i will rise,
and the presence
cannot bear me,
i have luggage
to carry,
a heavy child.
the time will come
to complete destruction
and to accept loss.
it appears as a way
when i cannot walk
into light, i will
grow in my darkness
feeding seeds of despair
to the birds
with their hungry noise
deep in my heart,
memories and wishes.
the time will come
when i rise out
into the sea of nothingness
swimming like a flower
which dropped from a tree,
leaving a shell up there,
floating, ready to live for a moment,
to die in non-expectation.
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