soulitude

floating,
through epiphanous slumber;
plagued with wizened hopes,
the wanderer seeks
the lingering promise of
a dream deferred.




trudging
deep under bowered wood,
missed
by mystery,and
dissed
by destiny,
he sets forth again,
on a journey
not yet begun.



Fate,
faithfully fickle,
but often true,
yearns,
to once more warm her long fingers
against the
glowing embers
of his hearth.



"Harken
to the song
rising
from within:
a chorus
of miracles
calls.



will you
submit
to the
deepest wonders
of your soul?"





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