Tell Me Of The Night, I Will Tell You Prophecies

Of invention.
Of all intention.
With all energy.
With laughs or pity.

Of connection.
Relations as convection.
Some warm.
Some cool.

But they all
blend together,
bound as if by a
nylon string.

Of connection.
Tell me that what
is real, is real.
I am unbound.
Separated like two
souls lost in a night fog.

Of such disconnect.
Eerie, yet familiar.
I am the greatest
unknown prophet.
For where I am
is where I know to be.

I am not lost.


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