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I have missed
spring, somehow here
with cherry blossoms and cool suns.
Come and gone.

Overruled by summer;
and still I slumber
on a park bench
I have claimed as sanctuary.

Surrendered and in limbo.
Re-reinventing myself
results in a confusion
that sinisterly entwines itself
around message and intention.

A continuum, if you will,
of all the things my eyes
still cannot see.

What if I am space traveller?
Only to discover earth
will never be my home.

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