((Candle Burning In the Night))

((A Single Unit))

It’s hard to know if those same feelings walk.
Face down lying on the linoleum
My back drenched, I observe

Rivers becoming oceans:
The Isness; The future
Is full and important.

Rather than static, dark, and airy storms,
We sit in a room
In the palace.

He propels over rough highways,
For such detailed knowledge
Sits in a wooden chair
In a place scattered with holes.


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