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Aug 2018
We’re history the moment we enter this world.
Like it or not. No one cares.

Mystery? We are gone, before long.
Blink of an eye. Fixed stares.

Multitudes single.
Singular masses.
We mingle.

Filling each others’ glasses.
Only to break the glass.
And cut ourselves. Bleeding.
History repeating.

Casting sideways glances.
Treading ever so lightly.

We never leave in earnest.
Not even with the circus.
A letter to the non-discerning.
Hard to find purpose.

Dripping drops of time.
Windows onto the sublime.

No one to blame.
It’s but a silly game.
Timmy Shanti
Written by
Timmy Shanti  Sol III
(Sol III)   
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