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Jun 20
The key to new destinations
Is nowhere in sight.
I must forage for that which will fulfill.
And I do not know where my efforts will lead,
Or if they will pay off in any good time.
I know none of this, but I do not stop.
We play in the nighttime like nightingales,
Soaring around, whispering secrets the moon keeps,
Tapping into a frequency we cannot permeate just yet,
Nibbling at the edges, trying to loosen the threads,
Improving with persistence on our art,
Building a nest with patient diligence,
A quaint lifestyle in the glow of the stars.
Some days I see you looking at them and wondering
Why you can’t be among your own,
Why you can’t have your own orbit,
You deserve it,
But I don’t.
I’m far too cynical to be powered on dreams.
That’s why my humble spirit must stay in the lowlands,
And why, if you love me, you sacrifice angelic realms
And must continue working in the branches,
Neglected nightingales.
abp
Amy Perry
Written by
Amy Perry  28/F/San Diego, CA
(28/F/San Diego, CA)   
268
 
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