Fearless moonlight,
indicative of the fading fog that comes.
The foolishness to come…
when not holding on to dawn from dawn.
The infinite longing for those raising a
white flag to flowers yet spawned.
Fortuitous are those joyful for the in between
of lines drawn.
∇
What power there is in just more day for sake of love.
Hanging on to the predicament and romance of a mourning dove.
Rebirth greeting each new day.
Purity found in nowhere…nearing season’s fray.
It is the moments we assume to forget. That make us who we are.
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