Lesson 66
The past is a foreign countrythat often feels like home,
but unlike the hearth the past is barred
and you can never go. So,
you turn to reflection, you turn to sighs,
and string them together to a melody
you sing when walking past familiar signs
that lead to a place you can never return.
Time is hell, and hell is being able
to tell heaven existed, but only
once upon a time:
long ago.
Poetry by Sameen
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Written on 2025-03-02 at 11:47
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Albert Vynckier |
