10 August 2011


I dreamed.
Saying goodbye, or, you saying goodbye, we were;
So many there, a thanksgiving,

but still,
I not wanting the change, again, after an again,
from an again long ago.

I weep . . . 
you fade . . . we apart.

Oh dear . . . where did you go?

“All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change.
There is no way to escape being separated from them.”

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