Sometimes things come back around in

different shapes and fashions,

riddled lives with faded passions,

hold your breath and time will not,

carving stone to sand and dust,

breaking trust and turning us to rust,

plans like filaments woven through a tapestry,

ranges spread from moot to ministry,

you find your cosmic karma knows your name,

reasons why we’re not the same,

engendered by their ways and means,

with wisdom from unscripted scenes,

leave a soul with sigh serene,

mottled greys from what was green,

illest minds are drifting there,

open doors where none would dare,

uncover truth; in darkness stare,

worry not, nor harbor care,

drift along within the current,

or find your song and play it fervent.


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