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The Dance of Old

I've questioned myself insane I've questioned myself eccentric There is no explanation for this untimely calling to the wild The trees call my name, My soul, to the heart of the forest Where awaits a form of life Eyes miles deep I travel, like a missing puzzle piece I unravel, soaking in the moisture through my hands This space I occupy is now dry But yet, we flower like the sun Two shapeless forms, Traveling through each others eyes This is the great migration Souls leaping from one form to the other I have escaped my skin Now I run like deer being pushed by the wind I am an old creation My kind does not exist anymore Heavy eyes laden with gold I ponder this situation I will not go I'll wait for my brothers to return through time So we can finish the dance of old
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Written by
gavin-ray-davis
American
Published
Nov 16, 2011
Lines·Words
24·148
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