The known never told me that the future was clear
That the breath in front was now also behind
The assemblage of time
The space isn't bigger then our visions
The epiphanies we always knew
New returns on a few graded thoughts.
Lash out elaborate likenesses
My hobby is to have too many hobbies
All washed away like a mind in a dream
No direct contribution
Years of building that ladder to the clouds with cheap materials
We laughed as I climbed it
Testing each step with limbs and appendages
We laughed when he fell
With the look of disbelief and concussion like symptoms
But we also laughed when he had the idea
The frivolous key to a tepid garden
A
Place
Only
I
Can
Be
With my own added illusions
And imaginations
A fallen island
The last pilgrim
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