we are vectors of
a word so much bigger
than itself
invisible points in
planes three. we are
pinpricks on a sphere
bleeding light (it stands
that we should be lit
from within)
like inverted stars. but
looking out is what we
do
to horizons receding as
we approach them push
it further for the boat
sails better so.
dreams sprinkled us like
constellations to feed our
fires books cannot hold
all our stories, but we draw
from them to give them life.
perpetuate the words by
giving birth to new ones -
what we know is
infinite.













Comments
infinite.
--
that we should be lit
from within)
This piece is wonderful.
--
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