long time ago:
we cannot kill time
without wounding eternity,
another lesson
in how to set free
the inner play that keeps us young.
the eternal source from which spring is sprung.
.
Now I wake at 3 am
too full of thoughts to sleep,
too thick with dreams to creep
back into that crowded cradle, too old to weep
for what is lost or never gained.
I cried and cried when my living dreams
collapsed, no lifetime wife, no revolution.
I can still feel the tears but they are dry.
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