and much less who we happen to be
all along the strange road,
the Earth seems to hold our feet
And dancing among the pattern of time
are echoes of ourselves
laced through sound,
within our dreams -
who we might be is just a thought away
and still, we push forward, like we don't know what's coming
Like death has no hold on this body..
but that makes us alive
and we crave the clear essence
of not knowing
Very nice. I liked the photographs very much. Thanks for sharing. Upvoted.
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thanks for coming here and appreciating. <3 !
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'Dancing among the pattern of time' - loved that line. Thanks for sharing this poem.
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my pleasure, friend :)
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