a musing
this Muse, ever nearwhispers every ear,
as many parting lips
at the slightest will of wisp.
yet i am found an left awry
at the corner of her eye,
bound by chains too true to lie.
i hold hello to stay goodbye.
to wait is weight and time so round,
too much for ever, too far for now
less in her moment i may sound.
this little present so close to past,
too long is light as long it lasts;
let fear aflood to surface fast
and face the fact -
embrace the lack
with grace and tact
and pace the act...
amuse this Muse i muse
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