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Mat Jones
Poems
May 2017
Fluidity
Something sacred taken;
Torn from fingers grasping
At a wraith of things held dear.
Avoiding grasp, fog-like.
Helm now unmanned.
The captain, apathetic,
Navigating blindly;
Insidious, with guile.
All things ephemeral, truly.
Permanence, an illusion.
Substance made fluid
Endows fluidity of mind.
Written by
Mat Jones
21/M
(21/M)
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