Six Days to SundayA Poem by Quillparalytic dreams no. 5
I cast my burden upon the vaguely seen and unseen unforeseeable future,
but how much could my paralytic dreams reveal to me, have i truly obtained a seers eye, or am i just an eagle who envisions from an outlaying distance without clearly defining anything until it becomes imminent, if so then i shall forever remain a slave to time, fading away in its evanescent elision.
© 2015 QuillAuthor's Note
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