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tao Apr 2020
Tight the way I like,
the chains of your fantasy,
in which you're the king.

Built on illusions,
the fort of patriarchy,
empty without me.
tao Apr 2020
Now it begins with the ocean - blue,
the heart of which
lies not in itself
but in the lapping waves,
foaming away at her feet.
Soundlessly calling.
tao Apr 2020
Off the distant peaks,
in the heart of valley stirs,
the sound of mountains.
tao Apr 2020
Within the hollow,
pines a bird, in the forest,
longing to be heard.
tao Apr 2020
In your ocean eyes,
ebb and flow, the rising tide,
crashing into waves.

— The End —