this
possibility
of thoughts, as if
the ocean in
disguised
creeping steps, how
reality
emerges
from this
horizon on fire, the haze
of mental
vignettes, incremental
murk lurking
like sinister intent.
somehow
life collects
these waves
upon receding shores,
asking always
for more, less
like death more like
waiting
for the inescapable
thorn
buried within
the heart's secret
rose.
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