The Reader

Fallen, feigning the portals our minds erased
rewritten in parables soft-spoken tones overtly undertake
evasive moonlight slows to fade as we repeat,
“Have a seat”
“Have a nice day”
“Have no thought be your own”
rummage through corroded streets to merge pathways leading home

within unrevealed lessons we learnt to selflessly relay
given the message of such chosen days
we failed to obey a severely restricted intention
mindfully enslaved with submission to “the Way”
crossing lines of lunar phases
forensically examined to recreate
linear lines freely formed to integrate

melting borders lying in between
transformative sun rays
the sage unmistakeably reads
counterparts in a Commoners War
as the scribe now barely speaks
a pure light vessel time-traveling through
corridors leading to our deepest truth
somehow singled out;

where mind and soul meet
amidst the words I couldn’t use
We’re forever ridiculed
with oppositions in dispute
of weariness we’ve seen right through
given delay of the day we break through
after all, “maybe it is just you?”


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