It’s a strange sinking floating sensation

All the impressions you had built up within their ornate guilded sense of sorcery

Its all real and fake

A wild ride with whimsy and haste

Years are estranged

It makes you feel deranged by the surreal quality

of moving thoughts and ideas making your story

Aren’t we more though?

More than this journey to nothing from nowhere?

Or maybe we are the meaning we seek

A longing to find what wasn’t lost only we made ourselves less aware

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