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Jul 2021
These abstraction aren't my own
I was written in a poem

A muse of wonder delivered me
From the dregs of the ordinary

Wading through my encrypted jargon
Being subtlety construed beyond my margins

Behind the curtain
Oz stares on
As his creation fills the hollowed halls

Projecting larger then actual size
A poem can write us in to light!
Traveler Tim
Traveler
Written by
Traveler  62/M/Traverse City Mi.
(62/M/Traverse City Mi.)   
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